Legacy
by alliedforces74
Summary: With the Reaper war over and galactic civilization reestablished, the man himself John Shepard tells his story. Will span all 3 games, cover Mindoir, military training, Elysium and eventually, Liara. Action, adventure, drama, romance and much more contained within. Please review.
1. Beginnings

Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there.

I started these memoirs as an attempt to leave something behind for my children and my wife. Then I realized they are my legacy. For better or worse I have touched their lives simply by being a part of them, for existing near them. My legacy exists in the ones that I love the most. In their memories and the stories they tell about me. In the way they grow up and grow old and eventually leave legacies of their own.

My story isn't a pleasant one, or an easy one by any means. I've suffered, I've fought, I've bled and I've died on more than one occasion My journey has taken me through the physical, the metaphysical, the delusional, and back again. But I've also lived, and thanks to a special few in my life, I've loved and been loved.

So. Being of sound mind and faculties, I present to you my life. The good and the bad. For all its worth. Before I'm too old to forget it all.

.

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"Home is people. Not a place. If you go back there after the people are gone, then all you can see is what is not there any more."

There's an ongoing debate amongst humans about whether the events surrounding a person's life shape them towards greatness, or whether greatness is born and the person influences the world around them accordingly. Although the word 'great' has been following my name for the better part of a half-century now, I can tell you with utmost certainty I was not born into greatness.

I was born on Mindoir, a human farming colony in the Attican Traverse on April 11th, 2154. Humans had only discovered mass effect physics in 2148 and my father Jack Shepard was one of the early 'pioneers' of human colonization efforts outside the Sol system. He somehow convinced my mother to leave everything behind and follow him to this unknown planet and start a completely new life, full of unknown quantities. The Systems Alliance gave him 5000 acres of untouched farming land, money to build a home, and an opportunity. My father would later tell me "a pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty." It was a quote from Winston Churchill. Big Jack, true to his nickname, stood at 6'3, proud and strong. My brother and I were afraid of him, but more afraid of losing his respect than anything. He was a reader. Churchill of course, but also Faulkner, and Hemmingway were some of his favourites. Jack worked hard, and he loved the feeling of satisfaction he got when he finally accomplished something. I admired him for it. I also admired my mother, Stacia Gianopoulos. She brought my older brother Jack Jr., myself, and my younger sister Stephanie into the world while she and my father were trying to start a farm on a foreign planet. They had no support network other than themselves, and I never, not once, heard them complain. Needless to say, myself and my siblings were not planned, but we were welcomed. When we were old enough to count backwards from our birthdates we quickly realized we should have been named "Anniversary, Valentines Day, and Anniversary 2." My father would always joke that he needed cheap labour and wanted to avoid transportation costs. A half truth. As soon as we were old enough, we worked. Hard.

I don't wish to compare my family to the early settlers of Earth, as farming was made exponentially easier with the advent of new equipment and technology. Jack Shepard was tasked with producing soy, an essential ingredient in almost everything these days. My mother maintained a smaller garden (in comparison to a 5000 acre field, but, she was Greek) for vegetables and fruits, and we had a small contingent of livestock so we were able to be completely self-sufficient.

There is one memory that haunts me to this day. I was 7, just a small lad, and we had a sow giving birth to a litter of piglets. I watched as my father did most of the work, showing me each piglet before placing them down, and explaining the process in great detail despite my pleas to stop. Then one of the piglets became stuck in the birthing canal. Big Jack looked at me without flinching and said, "you've got small hands, get in there boy." He stood up and forced me down and before I knew it he was shoving my hands elbow deep in the pig, and verbally guiding me as fearful tears streamed down my face. Hundreds of years of farming technology available, and it seemed there was still only one way to deal with a situation like that. I freed the piglet and birthing continued as I held the squirming animal in my hands, a little stunned that I had made that moment happen. When I calmed down Jack told me that I had saved more than one life and that made me feel a little better. We had pork for dinner.

A few years later and a few more traumatic moments behind me, Big Jack brought a tiny turkey chick home and gave it to me to keep warm and look after. I named him George. George and I became fast friends and I would often rush home after school just so I could see him. I'd try to teach him tricks that never seemed to take. I fed him, I took care of him. I loved him. Then the day came where I had to learn one of the toughest and important lessons of my life. George was bought so we could have Christmas dinner. My dad pulled me aside and explained that George was going to be slaughtered, and I was going to be the one to do it. I was 10. I led George to the shed and my dad positioned me behind my pet and gave me a knife. I would like to say something nice about the killing a turkey. I would like to say that dragging the knife across the bird's throat is an elegant, silky motion. But that is not true. The bird dies loud and messy. It gurgles and twists and makes it known it wants it all to stop. A fifty-pound turkey motivated by imminent death is strong. Too much for me to handle on my own, my dad helped me pile on top of George, holding him down while I worked the knife through his neck bone. A full minute after his head was clean off we continued to struggle against the muscles below, cautious not to bruise the bird. Finally, George went limp. I didn't cry. I had seen my brother experience something similar with his pig Petunia, and knowing my day would come, he told me "don't let dad see you cry. And don't look away. It'll all make sense after."

I stood up, mostly covered in George's blood, shaking a little bit and my dad knelt in front of me and grabbed my shoulders.

"Do you know why I had you do this?" he asked me. I had no idea why. Maybe it was to make me tougher, make me cry, perhaps some sort of punishment. I shook my head no.

"Because death is necessary for life." He told me. "George died so you could have food in your belly. He died so you could eat. So you could live."

He made me kill George not so I could be stronger, to be immune to killing. He wanted me to be sad. He wanted me to understand that sacrifice was necessary. When we ate Christmas dinner and my mom brought out George on his large platter, Big Jack gave me his coveted nod of approval as I took the first bite of George. My dinner, my sacrifice for the family. He knew I understood.

* * *

"I just don't get it. One day he's all nice to me, touching my arm, telling me how pretty my hair is, how he thinks my eyes are the greatest things he's ever seen. Then his friends show up and he turns into a total asshole."

I stared at the ground as we continued to walk down the long dirt road, kicking pebbles as I went. "I don't know if I like talking to you about this, Steph. It's weird."

"Well you're a guy. I want your opinion. And I sure as hell can't talk to J.J. about it."

"He likes you." I replied, a little annoyed that she persisted with the topic. "But again, not sure why you're telling me this."

"I'm just asking for a little friendly advice here. You're pretty much the only guy I trust with stuff like this."

"How do I go about losing that trust?" It made me uncomfortable to talk 'girl talk' with my little sister, but I was also somewhat happy she trusted enough to confide in me. We were so close in age, only 11 months apart; we were each other's best friends when we weren't busy being each other's worst enemies.

She bumped my shoulder and smiled as we made the 8-kilometer walk home from school. Weather on Mindoir was usually pleasant enough to allow us to walk year round. It saved money at the expense of time and personal comfort, but mom and dad had been "okay with that." Over time, we learned to enjoy it, it gave my sister and I time to talk away from our parents. It was also the only time we could curse without fear of being smacked hard behind the head by or dad, or chased down with soap by an angry Greek mother. We had become faster than her, though, but Big Jack was enough to scare us into behaving around the house. Jack Jr., or J.J. as we had called him, was the stereotypical, type A, athletic, handsome, all around great guy in high school you've seen in every movie you've ever hated. Steph and I had developed a sort of 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' type of relationship in response to J.J's incredibly frustrating perfection. It worked for us.

He wasn't always the perfect one. Growing up, he took the traditional role of big brother very seriously when it came to 'breaking me in.' While my sister could verbally destroy any opponent she faced, my brother was a much more physical person. We'd fight, for fun and out of malice, but we'd always be friends afterward. He taught me how to jimmy open the liquor cabinet, and hot wire the tractor. He gave me my first cigarette, and totally sold me out when we got caught. My brother was my other self. My grander, sadder, braver, shrewder, uglier, slenderer self. He was my most severe judge and my fiercest defender. I looked up to him. I wanted to be him. Siblings are weird and wonderful in that you are strangers, but you inexplicably love them.

"Seriously though, John."

I sighed and threw my head back and stopped walking to emphasize my next words. "Listen to me close because I'm only going to say this once. You deserve better than that jackass."

Women do this strange thing when they want a compliment. They intentionally insult themselves, or draw attention to a perceived flaw. But they do so in such a way that they make it a question directed at whatever person is standing closest to them. They go fishing for the words they want you to say. When my sister would talk about this guy who treated her like dirt, she knew she was too good for him. But she wanted to hear it from me. You must always be on alert for the compliment fish, because if you don't catch it, you could drown.

She smiled like I knew she would and we continued our walk home. Though that memory seems small and insignificant, it was one of the last I had with my sister, and I cherish it. It made me realize how I wanted to protect her from the scum in the world, and how she trusted me to do so.

My siblings and myself had each been 'blessed' with the strong Shepard genes. We all had jet-black hair, and were built tall and strong. Broad shoulders, dark eyes, and a bit of a quick temper too. Steph had no trouble keeping up with farm duties and she often bested both J.J. and I in a lot of ways.

I remember sensing my sister would have to endure the same lesson my father had taught both J.J. and I about sacrifice and when I approached her about it she was surprisingly comfortable with it all. Big Jack wasn't going to actually subject her to it, but when he needed someone to kill one of the rabbits for dinner, she volunteered immediately. We were all shocked. Big Jack included. But he coached her through the whole process and she snapped the thing's neck like she had been doing it all her life. "Rabbits cry like babies when they're wounded", I remember her saying. "That's why you have to do it quick."

We were all afraid she'd turn into a serial killer. But it turned out she just wanted to prove she was as strong, and maybe a little stronger than her older brothers. And she was. She was my mother in so many ways, it scared us.

Despite the complete horror show that happened daily on a farm (there's a reason I've only ever owned fish since then), we all turned out relatively well adjusted mostly thanks to my mother. She was kind, nurturing, loving, and unlike Big Jack she was never afraid to show it. They were total opposites in many ways, but I think that's why they were together. My mom could melt my dad right down to butter when she wanted. She was shorter, 5'4 and though not skinny by many standards, she wasn't over weight. She was 'voluptuous' she'd say. And we'd cringe every time she said that. She made us all feel loved. In a child's eyes, a mother is a goddess. She can be glorious or terrible, benevolent or filled with wrath, but she commands love either way. I am convinced that this is the greatest power in the universe.

It takes courage to raise children. I thank God (and the Goddess), everyday my children are much more well behaved than I ever was. We would play 'war' in the house, effectively turning our home into a battlefield, before being thrown out the door to play outside. My brother and I continuously experimented with the various chemicals around the farm in order to create the perfect flamethrower. I had no eyebrows for months. We pushed each other to our limits, effectively injuring one another in the process. An only child can never understand the delicate joys of sibling abuse. My mother seemed to be pretty immune to it all. But she knew how to discipline.

My parents had two very different approaches to anger and I have always described them thusly. My father was like a minefield. You had to be careful where you stepped around him because any sudden movements could set him off and you'd lose a limb. But once you learned to navigate, you were fine. You'd poke and prod very delicately and find the areas that made him go off, and avoid them. If you accidentally set one off, you'd bandage your wounds and keep going. We were so used to his booming voice filling the house, we adjusted.

My mother on the other hand, was like an impending nuclear war. Tension would build and build, everyone would get more and more nervous, knowing that at any moment the world could end. And then an event would occur that would cause the situation to boil over. In a minefield, the one who stepped on the mine is the one who was injured. In a nuclear blast, no one is safe. Everyone dies. And fallout lasts for a while. My mother was terrifying when this happened. We always swore that clouds would form, and flames would shoot out of the ground when she lowered her eyes, and her voice and spoke in very clear terms what was going to happen. Although a rare occurrence, the threat of my mother's boiling point was enough to make us behave, most of the time.

But even though my mother would accuse us of aging her beyond her years, we could never break her. She did everything out of love for us, and for our family. She gave up her personal goals and desires so we could have our own.

I remember her hastily making dinner one evening, slamming the cupboards like she did when she was angry. I asked her why she cooked if she hated it so much. She told me, 'I don't like or dislike the kitchen. I cook because I have to. I have to stay in the kitchen so you can all eat and go to school. How could you only do what you like? There are things you have to do whether you like it or not." Mom's expression asked, What kind of question is that? And then she murmured, "If you only do what you like, who's going to do what you don't like?"

That's the wonderfully sad thing about mothers. That even if you hate her, can't stand her, even if she's ruining your life, there's something about her, some romance, some power. She's absolutely herself. No matter how hard you try, you'll never get to her.

I think the thing I miss the most about my family is the ability to talk about them, with them. I can't turn to my brother or sister and say, "remember that time we took the tractor on a joy ride and crashed it through the fence. Only to repair the damage, fill the fuel tank, clean the thing to cover our tracks…and then take it for another spin that would finally get us caught?" And we'd laugh and have a drink remembering the look on my father's face.

I can't watch my parents dance at my wedding remembering when I was a kid, watching my dad's softness in my mothers arms as he slowly swayed and sang her 'Love me Tender' in the most hushed voice I could imagine.

They'll never meet my wife. My children. I wanted to show them that I found this beautiful woman who was perfectly willing to stand by me through literally everything I threw at her. Someone who had seen all the worst parts of me, the horrible things I've seen and done. And loved me anyway. They would have loved her and I like to think they would have been proud of me. My brother would have asked if Liara had a sister. My sister would have finally got the sister she always wanted. And our family would have become even bigger. For a long time, thoughts like these made me sad. But I know they're out there, looking down on me and my girls, protecting them, and excited to meet them thousands of years from now.

The story of their murder is not an easy one to tell. It was years before I was stable enough to even start accepting what happened. Even Liara wasn't granted access to those particular memories immediately. It took a while to let her in, because it meant having to experience them again. I lost more than my family that day. I lost myself.

On July 18th, 2170, my life was forever changed….


	2. Everything's On Fire

**REVIEW. Oh god, please review. **

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It started out like any other Saturday. I got up around 0600, had a quick breakfast and ran out the door to catch my ride. Every Saturday my dad would drive into town for supplies and he would drop me off at the neighbours on the way. Being on a farm, our 'neighbours' were anywhere between 5 and 7 kilometers away, so everything about Saturdays hinged on catching that ride. I said good-bye to my dad and hurried to the wood shop. There, I had a part-time job cutting wood that had quickly developed into an apprenticeship building furniture. I loved putting things together and I considered my neighbour Henry Foy to be a genuine artist. Everything we made was crafted meticulously and devoid of nails or screws of any kind. I loved how it needed to be perfect every time. There was no room for error.

On this particular day I was putting the final touches on a wide lounge chair I intended on giving my father. Most of the pieces I worked on would be quickly moved out of the shop for sale, but Henry allowed me this one piece for myself. I cut down the tree, I cured the wood, I shaped it the way I needed it, and I purchased the leather and padding for the cushions from Henry at a reduced price. I was proud of my work and I was excited to present it to my family. To show them I was good at something productive.

I had another, less positive, talent that I had discovered a year earlier when I was 15. My big hands, broad shoulders, and muscular build thanks to farm work had resulted in a rather uncanny ability to hurt others. I discovered my talent accidentally while at school; I encountered a group of guys bullying some kid. I walked up to them and asked them to stop, and one of them took a swing at me. I side stepped and instinctively (thanks to many sparring matches with my brother) threw a powerful right hook that connected with a crunch. The kid went down like a sack of potatoes and was out cold. The others scattered. I earned a reputation. I liked that people feared me a little, respected me more, and generally wanted to be on my good side. I liked fighting because I was good at it.

It was around noon and the day was getting hotter and hotter, almost to the point of being unbearable. I listened to music on my digital player with the volume cranked up high. It made time go faster and made me work more efficiently. I was about to take my lunch break when Henry burst into the shop with panic written all over his face. He was drenched in sweat and was making his way hurriedly towards me. I took off my headphones.

"Something's happening." He managed to say, searching the place for something. He settled on an axe and gave it to me. "Here, take this. You've got to get out of here. Use the woods so they won't see you. Get home, hide."

He was scaring the absolute shit out of me the way he was talking, because I suspected I knew what was happening.

Tensions between humans and Batarians had been growing since 2165, while we competed for territory in the Skyllian Verge. I remember seeing my parents looking worried while watching news reports of attacks on human colonies, but they always put on a brave face for us. Being so far out, Mindoir was vulnerable, and we all knew it. My parents did their best to act like everything would be okay.

I took the axe from Henry and felt all my muscles tense.

I had to get home.

"What about you?" I asked.

"I'll make a run for the house and grab my gun. Hold them off for you." He peaked out the door and quickly turned back to me. I was frozen in place.

Henry was sacrificing himself for me.

"GO!" he shouted and I instantly ran at his command.

I flew through the back door and sprinted to the woods. Almost the second I stepped outside I could see the world had changed. The sky was a dark, sickly orange from all the smoke and ash in the air. I could hear people screaming in the distance, the sound of gunshots ringing out, and see drop ships flooding the once peaceful landscape. I didn't hear Henry scream.

I knew my house was south, but that was about it. There was a network of trails that ran through the woods, connecting our farm to Henry's, but the way I entered the woods had caused me to lose all my bearings. I decided my best chance was to follow the wood line and use it for cover, while keeping an eye on the road that led home. At least until I could connect with a trail.

I followed the wood line staying about 20 meters in for better cover, and moved slowly at first. I stopped and crouched down when I was able to see the front of Henry's shop, and the back of his house. I didn't breathe. Flames engulfed both now, and human-like figures in varying colours of armour were wandering about. One was shouting commands, as the others rounded up members of Henry's family outside the house.

I watched his wife, Marla, sobbing uncontrollably as they threw Henry's body into the burning shop, and unceremoniously shoot Rob, Henry's son and one of my closest friends, in the back of the head. Marla collapsed and I saw them put some kind of collar on her and her daughter before bagging their heads and hauling them to their feet.

I had to get home.

I was panicking now and probably starting to go into shock. I never imagined this scenario before. I wasn't prepared at all to see what I had just seen. My only thought was my family.

I stood up and started running as fast as I could through the woods. While I was always athletic, I was never much of a runner. I hated it. But this time I felt no pain. I couldn't feel my legs, I couldn't feel my lungs burn, I couldn't feel my tears falling down my face. At first.

My house was about 6 kilometers away, on the open road. The fastest I had ever run 6km was 23 minutes 31 seconds, an exceptional time for anyone. Running through the woods is different. It's slower by virtue of having far more obstacles to contend with.

I have no idea how long it took me to get from Henry's to my house; it felt like hours but couldn't have been any more than 20 minutes. I was at a full sprint the whole time. Running on pure panic and fear and adrenaline. I ran until my lungs felt like they were on fire and my veins pumped acid through my entire body. And then I kept running.

When I reached the wood line bordering my house, my heart sank. I thought I would pass out. The barn was on fire and I watched the horses running around the fence line in terror. Smoke billowed in a huge plume and I could feel the head even being 400 meters away. I examined the property a little more and I was instantly filled with an ounce of hope when I realized the house was still intact.

I couldn't see any movement around the house. Couldn't hear anything other than the violent crackling of the barn fire, the whinnying of the horses, and the sound of distant gunshots echoing in the air. I looked down at the axe in my hand and cautiously approached the house.

I made my way in a half crouched position to the western side of the house. My first instinct was to peer through the kitchen window, to see if there were intruders. All I could see was chaos. Cupboards torn off, the table flipped, everything was wrong.

I edged along and warily examined the front porch. I saw three pairs of unfamiliar feet.

Abandoning any cover and intelligence I may have had I ran up the front steps to the open front door of my home.

My father, once proud and strong, was on the floor leaning against the wall in our front foyer. Bright red blood splattered against the wall above him trailed down to his resting place. His shotgun was still in his hand.

I felt dizzy and sick. Angry and sad. Agonized. Terrified. Alone.

I barely noticed the three Batarians he'd managed to kill before he went down himself. I slowly approached his body, hoping beyond hope he'd just start breathing again. I knelt down and stared at him, willing him to life. He couldn't have just died. But he did.

I pushed everything down and focused when I heard a quiet cough from the living room. I grabbed my dad's shotgun and silently followed the trail of destruction throughout the house. I broke cover around the corner of the doorframe and held my gun in the direction of the noise. I dropped it to the floor.

There was my mother, lying protectively in J.J.'s arms. His body slumped over hers, covered in blood. I couldn't see his face but I knew he wasn't breathing. I rushed over to them and pulled my mother out of J.J.'s lifeless grip. He'd been shot in the chest, before or after he'd shot the fourth Batarian, the one who presumably killed my father, I'll never know. My brother, my defender.

My mother was also wounded, gunshot in her stomach, and was dying slowly. I knew that from the pale look on her face, and the way she smiled when she saw me. It wasn't a hopeful smile. It was relief. Relief that she'd get to say goodbye. I held her in my arms, tears welling in my eyes as I looked down at her.

"Mom."

"My- baby. I…" She was struggling with every sound. Her body heaved silently as I held her tight.

"Don't. Come on. Just stay calm everything's going to be fine." I was lying. I had no idea how or why.

She weakly began removing the ring on her left hand and placed it into mine.

"You. Take-this." She held my cheek and smiled softly before her expression changed. "Your sister."

My eyes went wide. "Steph? Where is she?"

"They. Have" She clutched her stomach in pain. I hadn't even bothered to look down at the wound. Her whole stomach had been torn by the hot blast of a shotgun shell. I instantly felt ill.

She closed her eyes tight and let out a pained string of words. "They have your sister." She breathed out, relieved she'd finally spoken the words.

And just like that, she was gone.

No 'I love you', no unforgettable words of wisdom. Just death.

I'm not sure how long I held her there, silent, immobile, until her last words finally sank in. They had Stephanie. They had the last of my family.

I stood and wiped the tears from my eyes. I packed a bag full of canned food, a couple bottles of water, some medical supplies, and most importantly, ammunition. I had to find my sister. I was her protector. I was her last hope.

The axe strapped to my backpack, a knife on my belt, shotgun in hand I left the only home I had ever known behind. I didn't look back.

It was dark now, and I had to get moving.

I walked towards the flames.


	3. My First

** Your feedback is appreciated!**

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Darkness acts as a strong stimulus to the imagination and thus burdens the nervous system; a feeling of insecurity, which might eventually lead to panic, may be the outcome. The sensitivity of eyes and ears differs between night and day, with the result that in darkness objects seem bigger and distances greater. The ears exaggerate sounds that would hardly be perceptible during the day. Darkness plays tricks on you.

This is why night operations call for calm, cool, self-reliant, disciplined troops.

I was a 16 year old kid, stalking through the ditches on the side of the road, dropping to my belly each time a passing patrol would drive by. I had enough sense to squeeze my eyes shut so as not to ruin my night vision. I'd pick myself up and keep going, crawling through culverts, soaking myself in muddy water, washing the blood from my skin.

My father always said, "if you're looking for trouble, you'll find it in a city." That's where I was headed. I'd seen them place collars around Marla and her daughter's neck. I imagined them doing the same to my sister. If they were collaring them and bagging their heads they were taking them somewhere afterward. A central location. A hub. I just followed the trail of fire. Listened to the screams get louder.

I could hear them all around me. I could hear the strange combinations of clicking tongues, and growling reverberations that were the Batarian language. I was a farm boy, and as such, had no use for a translator. Their harsh alien language scared me but it caused me to remain attentive, just shy of being panicked. I was alert, and afraid, but I was silent as I moved.

It was almost dawn when I reached the city, and I was completely exhausted. The sun was starting to come up and I needed to get out of sight as quickly as possible to avoid the patrols. Peaking out over the ditch where the paved road met the dirt, I recognized the fuel depot across from my location. I knew there was a sewer grate that I could remove and drop down to the underground maze that ran beneath the Mindoir was famous for one thing, other than the raid, it was vast, open spaces. The sewer was my best bet at staying hidden.

Convinced I was alone, I held my breath and made a dash to the grate and fumbled with its weight. I'd never felt my heart beat so fast. Finally, with shaking hands I lifted the grate and began descending the ladder into the darkness below.

I didn't think to bring a flashlight. If my children are reading this maybe now you'll understand why I always made you carry three things with you wherever you went. A flashlight, a lighter, and a multi-tool. Not so crazy now, am I?

I cursed myself at my poor planning and continued to descend the ladder, watching as the light above slowly disappeared before me. Touching the ground, I threw off my backpack and started to blindly search for the familiar object I needed. My lighter. My brother's Zippo actually. He'd given it to me as a consolation when we got caught smoking the first time.

I stood silent for a minute, listening for any type of unfamiliar sound and flicked the lighter allowing the immediate space around me to be illuminated in the comforting orange glow. Knowing I would have to go left, I touched my hand to the left wall and started to walk, extinguishing the flame to conserve the fuel. Following the wall slowly, hearing the sound of my footsteps lightly wading through the ankle high water, no, sludge, I would flick the light on every few minutes to make sure I was still on the right track, and to provide myself with a little comfort.

I never liked the dark.

The images of my parents' lifeless bodies were still in my head. They still are, it's something that will never leave me. At the time though, those images drove me. They filled me with anger and hate and rage. I used it. Anger is like fire, it burns everything clean. But you have to be careful that it doesn't consume its own furnace, as it is likely to do.

"Anybody can become angry — that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way — that is not within everybody's power and is not easy." Aristotle said that. Anger is just anger. It isn't good. It isn't bad. It just is. What you do with it is what matters. It's like anything else. You can use it to build or to destroy. You just have to make the choice.

I wanted to destroy. I wanted to kill for what they did to my parents, my brother, Henry and his family. My sister. They had taken her and I had no idea what they were doing to her or if she was even still on planet. What if she had been killed? Violated? The thoughts made me sick.

I walked for what felt like hours, navigating as best I could with no real idea of where I was or where I needed to go and it felt like the walls were closing in on me. I needed sleep. I had been going non-stop but I couldn't convince my body to stop moving. Steph was out there somewhere and I needed to find her. Find anyone at this point.

Finally, I could see a distant light overhead, indicating a large drain. I made my way to the ladder and started to climb, slowly, methodically so as not to make a sound. As I drew closer to the dim light I could make out the clicks and growls and knew there were at least two Batarians above me.

I listened to their conversation, not understanding anything and after a few moments, I heard one of them leave. I cautiously used my head to raise the drain cover to get a better view of my surroundings, watching as the other Batarian made his way to a chair and sat down, facing what looked like a group of people, bags on their heads, kneeling on the floor. He sparked up a cigarette.

Silently lifting the drain cover about half an inch off the floor, I tried to take in a 360-degree view, to make sure there were no other threats around.

I could take one on my own, right? I'd butchered pigs, cows, even horses when necessary. What was one Batarian? A knife through the neck was likely to kill anything. He looked human enough. _He looked human enough._

I could turn back and continue to wander through the sewers, or I could take a chance that one of the bagged prisoners might be my sister.

I made my decision.

I slowly lifted the drain cover above my head, and bit by bit slid it to the side, as quietly as possible. When there was enough room for my body to get through, I started climbing the ladder. Taking the first steps out of the sewer, I glanced around again, making sure there were no others around. I was in a large warehouse, where exactly, I couldn't be sure. There were four prisoners with bags on their heads, and one Batarian sitting on a chair, his feet up, smoking a cigarette. His rifle was leaning against the chair.

I withdrew my knife and tried to slow my heartbeat. It thundered in my ears and my eyes, my mouth felt dry, my hands were shaking. I was going to kill something. Not human, but not an animal. A person. This is not a natural act.

But he and others had killed my family without remorse, without a second thought. They needed to pay. This one needed to pay. That's how I calmed myself as I stalked towards him.

Then I stepped on some glass.

The Batarian almost fell out of his chair, as startled by the disturbance as I was. We locked eyes and hesitated, neither of us unsure what to do next.

It's engrained in our culture from a very young age that there are two responses to danger: fight or flight. However, this model holds that the fight or flight dichotomy is the appropriate set of choices for any creature faced with danger _other_ than that which comes from its own species.

This Batarian was not a human, but he was not an animal. He spoke a language, he had a mother and father, might have had children of his own, he had thoughts and feelings and processed them into actions. He had opinions, he had motivations, he made choices. If I had a translator, we could have had a conversation.

When a human is confronted with aggression from his own species, or a species with equal sapient capability in this case, he responds with fight or flight, but also decides between fleeing and posturing. We don't have a natural tendency to kill one another. Of course, there is the occasional psychopath who really wants to slice people open. I try to tell myself this Batarian was the psychopath I thought he was.

So I started running at him. Posturing at first. Anyone who's ever played the game 'chicken' knows what I'm talking about when I say that the apparent intent to inflict harm is sometimes as effective as the actual act.

It caused him to fumble as he reached for his rifle, but he braced himself for me. And I tackled him to the ground. Now that posturing hadn't worked, I had to choose between fight, flight, or submission. I tried to plunge the knife into his throat but he blocked me, intent on fighting as well. The knife fell out of my hands and he used my temporary discombobulation and punched me in the stomach. Hard.

It knocked the wind out of me and I fell back. He got up and made his way for his gun while I made my way for my knife, forgetting about the shotgun I had strapped to my back.

I was that second quicker. That crucial second that decided both our lives. I thrust the knife into his neck as he turned around about to fire. I lowered him to the ground as his weight started to bare down on me.

Killing is a very intimate act. Killing at such close range even more so. The whole thing must have lasted a second but it's printed on my mind like a slow motion vid. He slipped to his knees and I lowered him down, his hand grasped my arm and I pushed the knife a little further. His face was terrible and twisted in pain and hate. Such hate. There was so much blood, seeping onto my hand. It was warm, and thick. I saw the light leave his eyes, and then I vomited.

The military would later teach me to deal with the psychological effects of killing other people. But for now, this experience was entirely new. It was raw and powerful and unforgettable. I never knew his name but I will never forget his face, and all the sounds and smells he made in my hands, by my hands, as his life left his body.

In developmental psychology there is a general understanding that an individual must master the twin areas of sexuality and aggression (Freud's Eros and Thanatos) in order to have truly achieved adulthood. I would later learn the consequences of grasping one intimate act before the other.

I pulled the knife out of his throat and stood up, shaking terribly from adrenaline and a feeling of pure horror when I looked down at what I had done. I had _murdered _this individual. I had wanted to. And I would do it again, were I faced with that exact situation.

I'm not sure how long I had been standing there when I heard another voice, male and clearly human.

"Hello?" He asked tentatively through the bag over his head.

I walked over to the prisoners and took their coverings off one by one and watched them squint at the sudden light. They were all male, between the ages of 7 and 15. I recognized the older one as Kyle Gardiner, a friend of my sisters.

I must have looked worse than I thought because they all just stared at me with this fearful look in their eyes.

"Are you from the Army?" A little voice asked innocently.

"No. I'm John. From the Shepard farm." My voice was shaky and strained. I had no idea where the Alliance was, or if they were already on the ground. Someone had to come for us. Right?

"We have to get out of here," The older boy, Kyle, piped up. "That other guard will be coming back soon to take one of us."

"Take you where? I'm looking for my sister, Stephanie."

"They're taking all the women to another site. The shipping yard I heard them say. I think that's what they said." Kyle's eyes were focused on the door behind me, waiting for that other guard.

"You understand Batarian?"

He was getting frustrated now. "I have a translator, my dad works in off world shipping." He was started to panic. "We really need to get out of here, that other guard will be back and he's going to take one of us."

"Is it just the one?"

"As far as I can tell, yeah."

It took me a minute to formulate a plan. I walked over to the Batarian and heaved him back up to his chair, leaning the rifle like it hadn't been disturbed and hastily wiping the pool of blood with some nearby rags. Then I moved to cover up the heads that I had just exposed, watching the 7 year old, Mike, crying as I did so.

"Don't worry." I assured him, "I'll be back before you know it." I winked at him with some new found confidence.

I moved to cover Kyle's face last.

"I hope you know what you're doing." He stated, clearly concerned with my line of reasoning.

"Don't worry." I said again, "I saw this in a vid once."


	4. Small Victories

**There is more to this but I decided to divide it up based on a couple of things. One, I'm still tinkering with the details of the shipping complex, and two, the tone keeps changing. I need to sort it out before it's aired. It also might keep you guessing a bit, who knows.**

**Reviews are my fuel. Comments and suggestions help me!**

**Please enjoy!**

* * *

I had no idea what I was doing. I still felt sick from killing the first Batarian, and even just the act of moving him back onto his chair had been almost unbearable. But I felt like this was our best shot.

I was about to kill again. This time, however, I had a thought out plan. And now, even more lives were on the line.

Hiding behind some crates, I set down my bag and clutched my axe and waited. Waited for the second Batarian to come out of the far room and approach the one I had killed and placed back on the chair. Blood was trickling down his arm and droplets were landing on the floor. In my haste I had forgotten the cigarette he had been smoking that now lay on the floor a few feet from him. He looked like he was dead, all slumped in the chair like that.

I avoided using the shotgun for now because I was still unsure about the number of mercs in the building. Guns, and especially shotguns, have a way of alerting others to your presence rather quickly. So for now, it had to be another up close and personal kill.

Just as Kyle predicted, a Batarian emerged from the far room and began making his way towards his dead fellow. He approached cautiously and I could hear him repeating the same combination of clicks and growls indicating the name of the one I had killed.

Curiosity killed the cat.

It stuck its nose where it didn't belong and got its head smashed.

I silently emerged from my hiding spot and prepared myself to bring down the axe on top of his head. It needed to be done in one, swift, hard blow.

When he reached his friend, he stepped back, obviously realizing his partner had been killed, and I brought down that axe as hard as I could.

I am often accused of not knowing my own strength. In this case, I knew it well. When butchering an animal, it's always best to try and take the head off as quickly as possible in order to avoid unnecessary suffering, and minimize damage to the carcass.

Batarians have a thick, very robust skeletal structure. It's why you don't often see them with broken bones, and why they are so good at breaking them in others. My axe did not go through easily, but it sunk in half way through his skull.

I felt the bones crunch through the handle of my axe. I heard every sound. I felt him die. But at least I didn't have to look in his face. My heart beat like a drum but I didn't vomit this time, I didn't cry. I was actually a little proud of myself. I thought up a plan, and it had worked. I eliminated this threat, and helped these young boys. I had saved them.

Taking the axe out of his skull, I averted my eyes from the mess I had just created and walked over to the group, removing their facial coverings once again. But not before picking up the lit cigarette off the ground and taking a long drag. _Filthy habit_ I thought, but I had earned it. That made me vomit. Batarian cigarettes are made completely out of tar. Lesson learned.

It's sometimes difficult to look back on these events and realize how stupid I had been. I should have died a hundred times before that point but somehow I had lived. I could have got all of those boys killed, but I didn't. That cigarette could have poisoned me but it just made me ill.

Liara is still confused and somewhat horrified whenever I refer to the horseshoe up my ass.

The boys were relieved to see my face instead of the one they expected and I could even see Kyle flash a small smile. I untied their hands and examined the collar around Kyle's neck.

"What the hell is this thing?" I asked him.

"I'm not sure," He replied "I think it has something to do with what they were doing in that other room. No one came out of there. There was screaming…" His eyes glossed over and I waited for him to finish. "And then nothing."

"Why is this happening?" That question sounds so much sadder when you hear it coming from a 7 year old.

I couldn't answer. I didn't know why. Thankfully, Kyle responded.

"They're slavers, Mikey. They're bad people. But John here is going to help us. Until the Alliance gets here."

Mike sniffed and looked at the ground. I had to get these collars off them. They might have been tracking devices, or weapons or a means of control. Later I would find out they allowed slavers to temporary paralyze an individual, allowing them to implant their mind control devices unopposed. These collars only paralyzed, they did not dull pain in any way. The victim would be able to feel everything, but would be unable to struggle against it.

"Check and see if one of them has an omni-tool," Kyle offered, "I think it can unlock these things." He seemed much more confident and calm now that I had killed the Batarians.

An omni-tool was a luxury we could not afford. My dad had a much older version for work, and he rarely used it and kept it locked in a safe. We were not allowed to touch it. I had however, seen a lot of my friends using them, and was able to navigate it with relative ease. Once I found the English language option, of course. Kyle guided me through and I eventually unlocked each of the collars. They fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

Kyle rubbed his neck and stood. "Thanks, man. I'm Kyle. This is Mike, Phillip, and Derek; my brothers."

Mike was the youngest at age 7, Phil wasn't far behind at 9, and Derek was 13. "I know who you are," I said, "you're a friend of my sisters. Stephanie, remember?"

"Yeah, right. They were taking the women to another spot. Some went right to the shipping depot. We got separated from our mom." He paused. "They killed dad."

Mike started to cry and Derek tried to comfort him. Phil just stayed silent.

I knew what they were going through, but I felt a surge of anxiety as I looked around the large open warehouse.

"We need to get out of here." I decided. "Back in the sewers." I took the Batarian rifles and gave them to Kyle and Derek. "Take these. You might need them."

Down we went into the darkness again. I had enough sense to grab a couple flashlights from the warehouse, and the omni-tool also had a light function. We walked a little further back to where I had come from out of the fuel depot before we stopped and I shared some of my food and water. They were grateful to have it.

"Listen, you guys should stay here and wait for the Alliance to show up. I'm going to double back and keep going towards the shipping depot. I need to find my sister." I was losing precious time now.

"I'm coming with you." Kyle offered. "I need to find my mom."

Mike moved to clutch his big brother's leg. "No..." he whimpered.

"It's okay. Derek will stay with you. And I'll be back." He placed a hand on his little brother's head. "I promise."

"Alright." I said. "But we need to move now."

I walked a respectable distance to let Kyle say goodbye to his brothers in private. And to avoid the feelings of jealousy and complete despair that might come from witnessing such an emotional interaction. Kyle was the oldest, and like me, he felt a duty to find the one who had been taken from him.

I left some food, water, and a flashlight behind and we started out.

Using the omni-tool, I was able to find a map of the sewer system in our town on the extranet. With my map and Kyle's translator and our collective weapons, we felt a false sense of security as we continued to trudge through the dank sewers in silence.

After a while, it was Kyle who finally broke the silence.

"So what was it like?"

"What was what like?"

"You know…killing?"

I thought about it, and I really didn't know. The adrenaline had worn off, and I was once again focused on my family. The question threw me off, and it still does. The question I am asked most often by young children who approach me is 'how many people have you killed' which is quickly followed by 'what was it like.'

I worried about how I would do it, what would happen, all the possible outcomes, rationalized it, and then killed him. I experienced a brief feeling of elation upon succeeding in killing my enemy, but this euphoria stage was almost instantly overwhelmed by the guilt I felt when I was faced with the undeniable evidence of what I had done. It resulted in physical revulsion and vomiting.

I sighed at my inability to express the feeling into words. "I don't know. Harder than killing a turkey." I said honestly. "In any case, we need to get to the shipping depot and find my sister. And your mom."

"What's the plan?"

"I have no fucking idea." I laughed, and Kyle laughed a bit with me. Our nervous laughter cut the tension and relaxed us a bit more. Humour is the best defense against despair.

"I know your sister." He said after a while. "She was going after that asshole Nick Sizer."

"Man, I hate that guy."

"Yeah, me too. I was going to ask her to junior prom you know…"

I looked at him with a smirk on my face. This guy wasn't my sister's type. He was a short, broad, Bavarian type. He wore glasses and liked to read. He kept his hair a respectable length and didn't get into trouble. He had a job. My sister would have hated him.

"Maybe you can ask her when we find her." I laughed. "But I'm pretty sure you'd have to beat the shit out of Nick first."

He chuckled at that, "Yeah. Probably."

The omni-tool chimed softly.

"We're under the shipping depot now." I said, my voice much lower. "Let's explore a bit. Learn the layout. Find out what we're up against, and then figure out what's next."

He nodded in response, and I turned out the light as we approached a distant overhead glow.

What I saw here, would haunt me forever.


	5. In the Fires of Hell

**Last line courtesy of Fight Club. PLEASE REVIEW. This one took a while. **

* * *

To put it in perspective, the shipping depot was a large complex of warehouses and office buildings that spanned about 2 kilometers in diameter. For two young boys looking for two very specific people, it was overwhelming.

There was the head office complex which they were using as their headquarters, and several warehouses that had their own small offices, parking areas, packing area, driver's lounges, and loading bays.

It was the perfect staging area for the invasion on our peaceful town. They could round up prisoners, subject them to their torture, load them onto shuttles and take them away.

There were possibly hundreds of Batarians in this complex. Everywhere. Walking in groups between warehouses, organizing shuttle pickups and drop offs of troops, guards patrolling the walls, and more and more prisoners being brought in by the hour.

They were being herded like cattle to two separate warehouses. Despite what Kyle had believed, there were men in this complex as well. Prisoners were being separated by gender, processed, and implanted with cranial control devices…if they were lucky enough to survive.

It was in this camp that victims had to look their killers in the face and know that this other being denied their humanity and hated them enough to personally slaughter them, their families, and their race as though they were nothing more than animals.

A person's response to overtly hostile action is usually one of profound shock, surprise, and outrage. _Why is this happening? Why does he want to kill me? What did I ever do to him?_ I asked myself these questions often during those three days. I could never answer them.

I climbed up the couple steps of the ladder so that I could get a better view of the complex. This particular sewer grate was on the eastern edge, next to one of the warehouses. Kyle stayed on the ground and kept watch.

"….I see four…." I started with a whisper, "mercs lugging a corpse." A naked, pale, beaten female corpse. Children were running about, confused, frightened, and howling like dogs. The mercs picked them up by their collars and tossed them onto the heaps of dead human flesh around them. On top of them are piled the invalids, the smothered, the sick, the unconscious. The heap seethes, howls, groans. And then it is burned.

Even with the smell of my hometown burning around me I'll never forget the mixture of rotting meat and feces that makes up the stench of death. Smell can call up memories and powerful responses almost instantaneously. Sometimes I can still taste it.

"What are they doing?"

I didn't really hear his question, but I hushed him with my hand. It was better he didn't know what I was seeing. For all I knew, that corpse could have been his mother.

Whoever they didn't kill or burn outright they brought to this complex and decided their fate here. It seemed few survived judgment.

Another truck was entering the complex and approaching the warehouse. This time, a little girl is pushed out of the small entrance of the vehicle and falls out onto the gravel. Stunned, she lies still for a moment, then stands up and begins walking around in a circle, faster and faster, waving her rigid arms in the air, whining in a faint voice. Her mind has given way…

"Jesus."

A merc approaches her calmly, his heavy boot strikes her between her shoulders. She falls. Holding her down with his foot, he draws his pistol, fires once, then again. She remains down, kicking the gravel with her feet, until she stiffens.

It was only when I had my children that I started seeing this little girl in my dreams.

There is a simple, horrifying, and obvious value resident in atrocity. The Mongols were able to make entire nations submit without a fight just on the basis of their reputation for exterminating whole cities and nations that had resisted them in the past. Who's to say this cannot be accomplished between entire species.

But atrocity does not diminish your enemy's will to fight. In most cases, it fuels it. I was fueled. I was full of hatred and anger and rage. I shook, I seethed. Most hatred is based on fear, one way or another. Yeah. I wrapped myself in anger, with a surplus of hate, and at the bottom of it all was an icy center of pure terror.

"What?" Kyle inquired. I hadn't spoken in what seemed like hours.

"N-Nothing. We need a plan."

I descended the few steps and sat down beside him.

"There's a lot of them up there."

He slumped down against the wall beside me, his fatigue more noticeable than before.

"We can't do this." He said dejectedly. "There's too many of them." He rubbed his eyes with his free hand the other clutched his gun. Kyle was letting his emotions spill forward now.

"I've got to try." My eyes were feeling heavy and hot with tears now too. "I can't let her go like this. She doesn't deserve this." I was willing myself back. "You should go back to your brothers though."

"No." he quickly replied. "We've come this far…"

"Just a little farther now."

"Yeah."

"We can't move until it's dark anyway. Get some sleep. I'll take first watch."

Kyle nodded and hugged himself tight as he attempted to sleep. I ascended the ladder to watch for a break in their patrol patterns, or anything that would allow us an opening to slip inside the warehouse and find my sister.

The sun was beginning to rise on day three of my ordeal and help still hadn't arrived. I let Kyle sleep through the night while I thought up my cunning plan.

Using the sewers, Kyle would go about 800 meters west of the warehouse and using my lighter and one of the many chemicals in abundance create a distraction. This would hopefully cause the guards to investigate and draw most of them away from the warehouse where I would then infiltrate, and locate my sister and his mother. I would take them back to the sewer where we would meet up, and we would head back to the fuel depot.

"You sure this is going to work?"

"No." I replied honestly. "But it's our best shot."

"Okay." With shaky hands he topped up his rifle and stuffed a few extra bullets in his pocket.

"You ready?" I asked.

He forced a laugh. "I'm a little nervous."

I must say a word about fear. It is life's only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unnerving ease. It's that same fear that keeps us alive. It prevents us from throwing ourselves into the fire. I needed it gone.

"Without sacrifice, without pain, we have nothing. Without sacrifice, without death, there can be no life." I was echoing my father's words in an effort to quell Kyle's fears. I put my hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "You can do this. You _have_ to do this. There's no other way."

"Okay."

I shook his hand and wished him luck and waited for his distraction. It felt like an eternity.

The city around us had been put to the torch and I could smell the fires burning constantly. I could feel the heat around me. The sound of gunshots had dissipated but were still present. The Alliance still hadn't arrived and I was getting more and more resigned to the fact that I might very well die there without their help.

Be careful what you wish for.

Kyle had left minutes earlier and I was waiting in the shadows to burst through the sewer grate and slip through a window of the warehouse with his signal when a loud explosion rocked the entire complex. There was shouting and the sound of alarms as shuttles lifted off and chaos ensued.

My first thought was that Kyle had created one hell of a distraction. Batarians flooded out of warehouses, completely ignoring me emerging out of the sewer as they passed. They rushed to the perimeter, preparing to defend while others attempted to evacuate. The Alliance had arrived, and they arrived in force.

The Batarians were abandoning their staging area, and staying true to their scorched earth policy, they were burning the shipping depot in their retreat. With the civilians inside.

I waited until the coast cleared before climbing on top of some crates and dropping through a window into a warehouse in the midst of the chaos. I could hear more explosions and gunfire, feel the concussions of impacting rounds around me, and feel the world becoming hotter.

I looked frantically around before my feet took me at a sprint towards the sound of screaming. The windows of the warehouse were falling down around me as fire started creeping and spreading from the outside.

The warehouse was like a maze of crates and sea cans stacked a mile high. I just kept running towards the sound.

As I rounded a corner I bumped into a running Batarian, clearly bent on getting out of this burning hell as fast as he could. Without a second thought I pointed my shotgun in his chest and fired before he could even react.

It left a hole in him and left me covered in his bloody, pulpy mess. I didn't have time to savour the feeling of being covered in his former self, experience the euphoria or guilt of killing him so remorselessly, I only had time to keep running towards the screams that were getting louder and louder.

Eventually I exited the maze and found the loading bay. There were several offices beside one another divided by concrete walls, all but one had flames bursting through their windows. I ran to the office and saw between 10 and 15 prisoners lined up, collared, bound, all screaming and crying as a Batarian doused them with gasoline.

I only saw Stephanie. Her eyes were wide with terror, and she wailed as the foul liquid was thrown in her face.

I yelled her name so loud I felt my throat bleed, I ran so fast I thought my legs would break. But I wasn't quick enough. Her eyes locked with mine as the Batarian threw his lighter on the ground and drenched the room in fire.

Time slowed down. I left my body.

They danced and cried and screamed and writhed as they burned alive. All I could see was the flames taking hold of my sister. I smashed the window with the butt of my shotgun and was instantly thrown back by the explosive force of the flames. I saw myself get up and run into the burning room. I was not afraid to die. Nothing was stopping me.

I tackled her to the ground and tried to put out the flames. I remember grabbing her leg and feeling the skin peel off, but she had stopped screaming. I threw her over my shoulder and looked around for an escape.

I hesitated at the door. In front of me I could only see fire - everything red, like the door to a furnace. An intense heat struck me. A burning beam fell in front of my feet. I shied back but then, when I was ready to jump over it, I was whirled away by a ghostly hand and knocked to the floor by the fire storm within the warehouse. Convection winds were blowing in with hurricane force and the sound of the wind was like the devil laughing.

I reached the front of the building and someone came out of the shadows and grabbed me hard, and pulled me out of the warehouse.

I dropped my sister and fought off the one who had grabbed me. He pinned me to the ground and covered me with a wet blanket. He was an Alliance soldier. One of the many who had come too late. I kicked, I punched, I screamed and I yelled. I continued to fight him until I was punched in the face, and the world went dark.

* * *

If that soldier hadn't knocked me out, I could have killed us both. He had to get me out of danger quickly and I later thanked him for it. At the time however, I was a very angry, frightened, confused teenager.

I woke up in a field hospital, rather abruptly, and found myself restrained, and in tremendous amounts of pain. I quickly locked eyes with the soldier who was responsible for saving my life, and giving me a rather fat lip.

"We had to restrain you for your own safety." He said, gently unbuckling the straps. "My name is Lieutenant David Anderson. You're going to be okay."

I rubbed my face.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I didn't mean to deck you so hard, but you didn't give me much choice."

When I finally realized where I was and what was happening I shot out of the bed and looked around in panic.

"My sister." I looked at him, and he looked right back at me.

"Where is my sister?" He shifted in his seat but his eyes never left mine.

"The one you were carrying." He stood and closed the distance between us. "She was too far gone. She didn't make it. I'm sorry, son."

I already knew in the pit of my heart she was gone, but it didn't make it any easier to hear. I felt myself starting to shake and I felt dizzy as I sat down on the floor. I still couldn't cry. The tears wouldn't come. There was just too much anger.

"You came too late." I growled. "You could have stopped them but you never came!"

Anderson was a large man in his early 30s, and very intimidating in the way he spoke and carried himself full of pride. He knelt to my level and placed his hands on my shoulders.

"I'm sorry." My fists started to clench. "You've been through more than anyone should ever have to endure. It's over now. You're safe."

"Everything's gone."

"Not everything. You're still here."

I was still there. Everything and everyone I had ever known was gone. I was still there. Why? _Without death, there is no life. _This was my pain.

"What's your name, son?"

I had no family left. I was the last of my name.

"Shepard. John. Jack. Stacia. J.J…Stephanie."

I was all their names.

"Shepard it is, then."

He gave me a drink from his canteen and stayed with me as I calmed down. The tears still wouldn't come. I was just full of hate.

"There's a group of boys, hiding in the sewers under the fuel depot."

Anderson looked at another soldier in acknowledgement and I saw him run off to deal with Kyle's brothers. I was certain Kyle was likely dead.

Everything that I was, everything that I could have been died that day with the rest of my family. I was changed forever. I was reborn.

I looked at David Anderson, my eyes red, my face hot, but I spoke in an even tone. "I'm going to make them pay." I said. "I will kill them all."

His expression didn't change as he waited for me to finish.

"I promise."

It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.


	6. When I was 17

**A/N: **_Be warned, it gets a little M in this one. _

* * *

After Mindoir, myself and the other survivors were brought back to Earth and being under 18 and without any family to call me their son, I was placed in foster care.

But first, The Bridges _Juvenile_ Center in New York City was to be my home until a foster home was found. Here I was placed amongst youth offenders who were charged with a wide assortment of crimes. My bed, to start due to overcrowding, would be a thin mattress in the open area of the block. Despite being one of the larger boys, I was immediately targeted for repeated attacks. I defended myself as best I could, and thankfully my affinity for hurting others had only been strengthened by the events on my home planet.

People were already reluctant to take in a damaged 16 year old into their homes, and my reputation as a fighter did not help matters. However, nearly a year after the events on Mindoir the Heuer family took me in.

Taking a troubled, very angry teenager into your home requires courage, and a certain amount of indifference. There was no 'raising' left to do. They tried to help. They enrolled me in a decent school and drove me to my therapist's office where I would sit in silence for an hour each Tuesday. They made sure I took my medication that was supposed to keep me from feeling depressed. Mostly, the meds just made me feel numb. I resented my foster parents' need to help me. I hated them for it. And I still feel sorry about it.

At 17 I knocked out my foster father during an argument over my dropping out of school. I took the small bag of my belongings and left for the streets of New York without looking back. I stopped seeing my social worker, my therapist, stopped taking my meds, and started seeking out something to get rid of the numbness.

It's funny how one can go from perfectly normal to completely screwed up in such a short time. The removal of the stability that was my family shook me to my very core. I wasn't the same. I didn't think, act, speak, or carry myself in any way that gave my former self away. I was someone new. Completely consumed by hate.

One night, I was thrown out of _Jim's_, a grungy bar on the lower west side, for the obvious crime of being underage and I quickly engaged the bouncer in a fight. He was bigger than I was, but I was faster and stronger and much, much angrier. After beating his face to a pulp I was offered his job by the owner and a cot in the back.

I was also exposed to illegal fighting which were more or less like dog fights between humans. It was illegal because it was not sanctioned, and it was not sanctioned because there were no rules. I loved it. I was also very good at it.

The adrenaline rush gave me a euphoric high that I simply couldn't get enough of. I was an addict, a junkie. An _adrenaline junkie_ is somebody addicted to endogenous epinephrine. The "high" is caused by self-inducing a fight-or-flight response by intentionally engaging in stressful or risky behavior, which causes a release of epinephrine by the adrenal gland. It's like a shot of morphine directly to your heart.

Humans have always watched other humans fight each other for sport. A boxer is a modern day gladiator. We put two men in a cage and watch them beat the hell out of each other and this entertains us, because it is in our nature to fight each other, just not to the death. It's our way of posturing. Piranhas and rattlesnakes will bite anything and everything, but among themselves piranhas fight with raps of their tails, and rattlesnakes wrestle. Somewhere, during the course of such highly constrained and non-lethal fights, one of these intraspecies opponents will usually become daunted by the ferocity and prowess of its opponent, and its only options become submission or flight.

The feeling I got when I defeated my opponent was similar, but not nearly as powerful, to the one I got when I killed those batarians. I felt exhilarated, elated, euphoric and proud of what I had done. Even when I didn't win, the feeling of causing pain to another individual was enough. And in some sick twisted way, the beating I received in return felt just as good. I felt alive.

I had just turned 18, and I was fighting a rival of mine by the name of Iakov "Iron Head" Dravinsky. A young man of 24, he was exactly an inch taller than me and weighed in at around 200lbs. Despite repeatedly stepping into the 'ring' in the basement of this shitty bar, he had a nice face and was a pretty boy by many standards. He earned his nickname not from his good looks, but his propensity for being rather difficult to knock down. Neither of us had any formal training as fighters, we were simply dogs thrown into a pit to scrap for the amusement of others.

We danced around each other in our usual way, each posturing, making ourselves appear more aggressive than the other, probing for weakness. Being untrained, our matches were more or less street brawls.

Like always, he became frustrated and made the first move. He stepped in with his left foot and tried a powerful left hook, and my adrenaline high kicked in. Time slowed down and the next movements happen in seconds in the outside world, but feel much longer in my mind.

I tried to block but Iakov was so strong it always got through. To withstand his hook, I clenched my jaw very tight. I moved in to my attacker in order to make the punch land harmlessly away from me. I kept moving towards him and he jabbed hard with his right out of instinct. I took the punch with my forehead.

When someone punches you in the face, it hurts. When someone punches you in the face with illegal nickel-plated knuckles concealed underneath his tape, it hurts even more. Getting hit motivates me. It makes me punish the guy more. A fighter takes a punch, and hits back with three more.

Now it's time to counter.

My whole body moved with my right arm as it hurled itself up towards the underside of his chin. My uppercut landed with a crack and I knew I had broken his jaw. But I was not finished. He stepped back, his eyes no doubt wanting to burst out of his skull, his ears were surely ringing. I pinned him to the boards before he could fall and slammed my left fist into his kidney. He doubled over. I held him up with my left hand at his throat, and brought my right hand back as I lined up my shot. It thundered down on his temple, and I felt his body go limp.

I fell with him, my left hand still at his throat, my right hand still hurling towards his face over and over again. I felt his blood splatter against my face. I got my shot of morphine to my heart. I savoured every moment of it until I was hauled off his body by the referee and thrown into the corner.

The world came back into focus and poor Iakov was spitting out blood and teeth. I had wanted to destroy something beautiful. Destroy all the things I would never have. I let my anger go every time I entered that pit, and each time I stepped back into the world, it would instantly return. It seemed the better part of two years was spent searching for a way to release my anger, and I found the most self-destructive ways to do so.

My high was gone, so I washed and dressed the cut above my eye and went in search of my next fix. In these dark years I sought out risky behaviour in the form of fighting, and sex.

It was late so I eyed up the last few working girls surreptitiously, they were the dregs of their tight knit society just like me, and that caused my anger to boil to the surface once more. I took deep breaths, determined to get my anger under control. I liked prostitutes, I knew where he stood with them, and I didn't have to be nice if I didn't want to. I needed to release my pent-up aggression regularly, and the sex act did that for me.

Sex is a natural and essential part of human life. Killing is a private, intimate occurrence of tremendous intensity, in which the destructive act becomes psychologically very much like the procreative act.

I saw a young girl in the shadows; she was obviously new to the pavement, her skin was still clear and her eyes didn't have that feral glint in them that came with experience and overuse. I motioned for her to follow and I walked briskly and smiled to myself at the sound of her clacking heals behind me.

At surface level, the link between sex and aggression is obvious and not so blatantly offensive. The most powerful stag, stallion, ram, male lion, or gorilla wins the harem; lesser or younger males remain only if they are subservient.

Her long slim legs were bare apart from her short satin skirt. She wore a tight t-shirt and worn out waist high coat that had seen better days. I stopped in a doorway and smiled as she sidled up beside me. In the dim light I noticed she was actually quite pretty. She had thick blonde hair, wide-spaced blue eyes, and creamy unblemished skin free from the harsh lines that most young women in her line of work donned. Her genuine smile revealed white teeth and a trust that was completely lost on me.

The linkage between sex and killing becomes unpleasantly apparent when we enter the realm of warfare. I was not yet a soldier, but I had killed, and I had reflected on it to the point where I convinced myself I enjoyed it. Sex and aggression are thought to be rites of manhood so much so that for me, sex became like killing, and later, killing became like sex.

I asked her how much and she exposed her naivety when she asked me how much I usually pay. I didn't respond, instead I pulled her towards me and began to feel her all over. As I squeezed her breasts she closed her eyes tightly, and I forced her legs open with my knee. Pushing her backwards against the door I kissed her. Forcing my tongue in her mouth I explored her tenderly as if she were a true girlfriend. She tasted like Wrigley's chewing gum and cigarettes. I never kissed hookers; this was a one-time fault for me.

When I killed my first batarian, I had yet to experience sexual intimacy with a woman, and while I had explored a woman's body, as most young boys my age were like to do, I had never committed the actual act of penetration.

Picking her up in my arms I positioned her so I could thrust myself inside her. Her body was new and exciting; the fact that she was dry and mentally vacant from the whole situation didn't enter my mind. I was lost in the feelings she was creating in me, pulling her legs around my waist; I pummeled her until I felt myself peaking.

Both killing and sex are highly intense, intimate, one on one, face-to-face acts where one single person dominates the other. The sexual partner is not actually destroyed in the encounter, merely overthrown.

Her face was devoid of any true emotion. It made sense for her to mentally escape her reality while we both sought out our needs from one another. Mine was a need of pure pleasure, excitement and release while hers was for monetary gain. She was not enjoying herself, and really now that I look at it, neither was I. _  
_

While the psychological aftereffects of sexual lust are different from those of battle lusts, the differences do not alter the fact that that these passions have a common source and affect their victims in the same way while they are in their grip.

When it was over, I withdrew and gently set her down. I came back to reality and an intense feeling of guilt washed my euphoria away. Whatever she was, she was still a human and I had used her like a _thing._ I took out the wad of cash I had earned from my fight and placed it on the ground in front of her. I vaguely recall whispering 'I'm sorry' as I walked away.

I was not a good man_._

It is not easy for me to admit this, but I was a user of women. I used them like a commodity for my own selfish purpose. That's who I was. I was not a good man. I was not a good person. It took me a long time to come to terms with that, but I have since changed.

The force of darkness and destruction within us is balanced with a force of light and love for our fellow man. These forces struggle and strive within the heart of each of us. To ignore one is to ignore the other. We cannot know the light if we do not know the dark. We cannot know life if we do not know death.

My light had been extinguished. I only knew the dark.

Sex is just sex when it's for personal gain. It's selfish, like killing. And just like killing it's easier not to look them in the eyes while you steal a piece of them away for yourself.

I was in a very dark place for a long time, but thankfully, someone would try to show me my light.

I sat on the curb outside of _Jim's_ smoking a cigarette, and enjoying the cooling sensation of the drizzling rain when a man walked up to me. He got so close his legs were against my arms so when I tried to look up I had to lean far to my right to try to get a look at his face. Off balance, he had no trouble kicking me the short distance to the sidewalk causing me to lose my smoke.

"What the fuck!"

"What the fuck is right. Stand up."

"Fuck you."

He kicked me in the ribs so hard I felt one of them crack. He bent over and I immediately recognized his face as the Lieutenant who had rescued me on Mindoir. David Anderson.

"You can stand up or you can stay down here and continue to get beat. Your choice."

I clutched at my ribs and looked up at him in confusion.

"Breaking my ribs isn't great motivation to stand."

"Oh really?" I saw him wind up for another but I caught his boot with my hands, and twisted his ankle causing him to drop to the ground. He laughed. "Good. You're a fighter. You'll need that."

"What the fuck are you talking about? What do you want?"

"I came to get you out of this shit hole you've found yourself in."

"I like this shit hole." I sat up and moved to sit against the wall while he did the same.

He brushed off the scuff on his boot with his finger. "You're better than this."

"And how would you know that?" My voice was dripping with disdain.

"Those boys we found under the fuel depot certainly thought so. Their brother Kyle thought so too."

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of Kyle's name. I felt genuinely happy for the first time in two years.

David reached into his pocket and pulled out the Zippo lighter I had given to Kyle, and he tossed it over to me.

"He wanted me to give you this. He was burned up pretty bad but he told me that you had saved him and his brother's lives."

I just kept moving the lighter around in my hand, feeling the cool metal against my skin, fighting the memories of the raid back while trying to let memories of my brother in.

"You're a leader. And a fighter."

"I'm a killer."

"Sticking feathers up your ass does not make you a chicken."

The look on my face must have said it all because he laughed again.

"You killed, but you're not a killer. You're a kid who went through hell but you don't need to let it define you. You _are_ better than this."

I remembered Anderson being there when they brought me to the rows of black bags, lined up so perfectly and uniformly in the hangar. He led me to her and pulled back the bag to reveal her unrecognizable face.

When someone cries so hard that it hurts their throat, it is out of frustration and knowing that nothing, no matter what you can do or attempt to do, can change the situation. When you feel like you need to cry, when you want to just get it out, relieve some of the pressure from the inside - that is true pain. Because no matter how hard you try or how bad you want to, you can't.

That pain just stays in place. Then, if you are lucky, one small tear may escape from those eyes that water constantly. That one tear, that tiny, salty, droplet of moisture is a means of escape. Although it's just a small tear, it is the heaviest thing in the world. And it doesn't do a damn thing to fix anything. Anger is so much more efficient.

"I want to kill them for what they did." I said quietly.

"It is forbidden to kill; therefore all murderers are punished unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets."

My ears perked up at the familiar words.

"Voltaire."

"Ask any soldier why he joined the military and no matter what he says, he's done so for selfish reasons. He wants to make the world a better place the only way he knows how. I'm not smart enough to be a doctor, I don't have the resources to cure world hunger, but I have a gift for leadership. I am an over achiever in the sense that I want to be the best at what I do, and that, my dear boy, is killing."

"That is the basis of our profession. Everything else we might do, we are first and foremost trained to kill others. I look at you and I see that rage in your eyes. But I know that you don't really want to see the world burn. Deep down, you want to make it a better place the only way you know how. I think you're a leader, and I think you've got what it takes to be an _exceptional _soldier."

"I want you to think about this seriously. This will not be an easy undertaking. It will test you in every way you've ever thought possible, and then in ways you can't. It is a privilege and an honour to lead men to battle. Not everyone can do it. That's what makes us so different. It takes a certain type of person to do what we do, so they don't have to."

He sighed and stood and looked down at me. "Think. Take a hard look at yourself and make a decision. I'll be at the downtown station tomorrow morning at 0600 to catch a transport back to the Alliance, with or without you."

He started to walk away and then stopped and turned around. "You can stand up or you can stay down here and continue to get beat. Your choice."

Then he disappeared into the shadows and I went inside to pack my bag.

* * *

**A/N:** _Update! I decided to not make my Shep a sexual deviant and include this important experience completely. Thank you Sharrukin, I feel much better now.  
_


	7. Train Hard

**A/N:** _Please think of this chapter as an interlude to Shep's combat initiation which will include Elysium. I've got a few things in mind, but I felt this needed to be introduced first._

_Thank you to those who have given me feedback, your opinions are appreciated! Please continue to read and review. _

_It's about to get real._

* * *

When we docked in Vancouver, Canada, David Anderson marched me over to an Alliance recruiting station where we started the process. It took three days to conduct the standard physical, medical, and aptitude tests before I was subjected to a two hour interview which would be my first and only job interview ever. My lack of a high school diploma was an issue until Anderson assured the recruiting officer that I would have my equivalency by the end of the week. He wasn't wrong. I was officially enrolled in the Alliance's Continuing Education Officer's Training Programme, which allowed me to gain my commission with a promise that I'd finish a degree through the Alliance Academy within a decade. With that, I was promoted to Second Lieutenant.

When it came to choosing which element of the Alliance I wanted, it was a no brainer. I wanted to be a Marine. I wanted a challenge, I wanted to go places, I wanted to use that dark force that I had discovered to do right in the universe. I was young and stupid.

It started with a very long ride to Lympstone, in Devon Britain and I am convinced this training takes place in Britain solely because the country is naturally miserable. Just by looking around, you know who's going for training just by the way they're dressed. They've got short hair, clean cut, fresh shaved, wearing a newly pressed suit and tie and carrying only the single bag of civilian clothing permitted. No one talks to each other. They're all worried about their life. They're mostly all coming from a very comfortable and nurturing environment fresh out of high school, college, or university. And if they're not worried, they ought to be. From the transport depot we took a train directly to the base.

I was the first to step off the train. I slung my bag over my shoulder, wrinkling the old suit Anderson had lent me, and walked over to the large looking man in uniform, who was glaring at me. I said nothing as I set my bag down, and turned to face the train. The man just stared at me, not speaking, as he eyed and sized me up. The others from the train, about ten or so, joined me in my line as the sergeant took roll.

I was nervous, but my cocky teenage self wouldn't let it show. He made his way down the line to a young fellow named Ainsworth, who was unfortunately wearing a zip up, brown jacket instead of the suit jacket and tie we were instructed to have.

"Ainsworth is it?" The sergeant barked. The British are notoriously good at sounding simultaneously polite and indignant.

"Sir" His voice was quiet and scared.

"What kind of jacket is that? You planning on joining the Marines or the Air Force?"

"The marines, sir."

"Holy Christ, Ainsworth. You're a bleeding failure already. And call me Sergeant! I work for a living." He turned his attention to the rest of us. "All of you, pick up your shite and follow me."

I remember putting on my uniform for the first time, and fussing over it in the mirror. I looked impressive, I felt proud for the first time in a very long time. I stood tall in front of my mirror as I smoothed out the fabric on my beret, fixing my collar, and looking for any imperfection no matter how minor. I took pride in my appearance. I felt like a soldier.

But sticking feathers up your ass does not make you a chicken. And putting a uniform on does not make you a soldier.

Basic training is just that, basic. It's as hard as it needs to be to weed out those individuals not meant for military service. You're taught the basics of drill, weapons handling, field craft, and survival. You're put through the paces leading patrols through swamps and rolling hills over days and nights, working together to accomplish your mission. Anyone can do it if they want to, so the goal becomes to find those special few who want to be there. I am one of those few whose purpose in this world is very specific and sought after. I found my niche in life.

I also found my anger was put to good use here. I didn't have the urge to kill, I had the urge to succeed and do well at my job. I wanted my friends to make it through with me. I wanted to be the best. I found my outlet for my aggression. The military taught me to harness my energy, and impose self-discipline, because that was what was required of me.

There _is _such a thing as a 'natural soldier': the kind who derives his greatest satisfaction from companionship, from excitement, and from conquering physical obstacles. He doesn't want to kill people as such, but he will have no objections if it occurs within a moral framework that gives him justification – like war – and if it is the price of gaining admission to the kind of environment he craves. Whether such men are born or made I do not know, but most of them end up in the military, like me.

I graduated at the top of my class and was recommended for Special Forces training upon my promotion to First Lieutenant. I jumped at the opportunity to earn that 'N' designation and once I was approved for selection, the real training started. I was sent to the Interplanetary Combatives Training (ICT) which is the Systems Alliance's premier school for leadership and combat expertise. The Interplanetary Combatives Academy, sometimes called "N-School" or "the villa," recruits officers from every branch of Earth's militaries to partake in grueling courses at Vila Militar in Rio de Janeiro.

Initially, candidates train for more than twenty hours per day, leading small combat teams through hostile terrain with little sleep or food. Trainees who do well are awarded an internal designation of N1 and are invited to return for further training and further designations.

The impact of true physical exhaustion is impossible to communicate to those who have not experienced it. I remember sitting in the mud in a state of exhaustion, picking up small frogs from the surrounding swamp, swallowing them one by one, and rinsing them down with water from my canteen. I had not eaten or slept in five days. At this point swallowing live frogs seemed like a very reasonable course of action. And although we were handpicked officers and sergeants in the finest possible condition upon beginning the course, by this time most of us had lost well over twenty pounds of body tissue.

Sunken cheeked and hollow eyed, we were in a state of total starvation-enhanced exhaustion that caused many of us to have repeated hallucinations. These were incredibly vivid dreams that we would experience while wide-awake. We were all teetering on the brink of total madness after over ten weeks of this kind of brutality coupled with the simple fact that any of us could quit whenever we wanted.

I remember standing in my trench that I had been digging for the last six days, watching my fire team partner, Will falling asleep on his feet. Just before he would fall on his face, his leg would jerk out and wake him up, instinctually. I was doing the exact same thing. We stood in our trench, ankle deep in rainwater as we watched the line. I saw something run across and I startled, my adrenaline burst waking me up a little more.

"Will." I whispered. He was continuing his sleep/wake cycle every twenty seconds or so. I kicked him and he jerked awake.

"Wha…"

"You see that?" I pointed out to the kill zone. There was something out there.

"See what?"

I looked through my sights and my heart almost stopped.

"N-Nevermind" I said, and he drifted back to sleep. Most of my hallucinations had to do with food. This time, a pizza deliveryman had wandered his way out of my mind and into the kill zone. I decided it was better to ignore him than to call a stand-to.

We also had an incident while on patrol one moonless night, where one member was separated from our squad after following one of his hallucinations into the woods. It took us two days to find him.

In my zombie like state I was subjected to multiple tests of my mental and physical fortitude. I travelled the world and trained in the desert, the jungle, the arctic, and the cities so that I was capable of storming any beach on any planet. I learned to drive tactically both on the ground and in the air. I am not a bad driver I am an aggressive one.

I crossed a frozen river stark naked save for my helmet and the rifle strapped to my back, using my kit as a float. I was subjected to multiple weighted marches, strapping on my boots over oozing blistered feet day after day after day, culminating in an agonizing sixty four kilometer trek through the mountains in under twenty hours. These were exercises in determination. Men far more fit than I failed these trials simply because they did not have the mental toughness to finish. Your mind will quit a thousand times before your body will. It should be pointed out that there is no stigma attached to not receiving an N-designation – the training is so extreme that even qualifying for an N1 course is considered above and beyond normal duty. People have died attempting this training.

During N2 training I learned to trust my squad mates completely when I and the other candidates, of our own free will, drowned. I dove into the pool, sank to the bottom, and willed myself to let the water fill my lungs. I had to trust that my squad mates would rescue me and resuscitate me. I was terrified, and justifiably so, but they saved me. I learned what real trust was. I forged a bond with these men through our training and our combat experience. My fire team partner Will Early, who was with me through all of my N training until his death at Elysium, was in a lot of ways, my first real love.

This may sound strange, but there's a love relationship that is nurtured in combat because the man next to you- you're depending on him for the most important thing you have, your life, and if he lets you down you're maimed or killed. If you make a mistake the same thing happens to him, so the bond of trust has to be extremely close, and I'd say this bond is stronger than almost anything. Your life is in their hands, and you trust them unconditionally with the most valuable thing you have. Will and I had a friendship that was built on that trust.

Perhaps that is how my relationship with Liara developed so genuinely. She trusted her life to me initially because she had to, and over time we forged a bond closer than anything I could ever have imagined. I trusted my life to her and she did the same, even before we realized there was a romantic element. We have a friendship and camaraderie that was so profoundly intense because of the combative experiences we've had together. She is the only person who I trust with my body and soul and my life, because she trusts me with hers. And we are both driven by the desire to not let the other down. More on that later.

The rest of my N training was a blur. Over the next several months I travelled the galaxy, training off planet in zero-G fighting, military free-fall (parachuting), jetboot/jetpack flight, combat diver, close-quarter combatives, first responder/combat lifesaver training for human and alien biology, language instruction, and assault procedures.

For our final exercise prior to N6 designation we were dumped, individually, on a foreign planet wearing nothing but our armour and told to run. Escape, evade, and resist. I ran for a week, eluding my pursuers before reaching my objective. I was surprised to learn that despite accomplishing my task of evading capture, I would be subjected to the resist element regardless.

I cannot divulge exactly what occurs during this phase, but what I can say is that it's not torture, but it's not exactly not torture either.

I resisted, and I emerged proud and capable and self-reliant.

Now I wanted my N7 designation. And I would be thrown into the fire to get it.


	8. Fight Easy

**A/N: **_Work has been a killer so it took a little while to get this one pumped out. _

_Lest We Forget._

* * *

The word "terrorism" is politically and emotionally charged,and this greatly compounds the difficulty of providing a precise definition. Studies have found over 100 definitions of "terrorism". In my world, a terrorist is someone who commits an act designed to create fear and terror within his opponent. An abiding characteristic is the indiscriminate use of violence against noncombatants for the purpose of gaining publicity for a group, cause, or individual. The symbolism of terrorism can leverage human fear to help achieve these goals.

Mindoir was an act of terrorism, and all those batarians who committed atrocity on my home and to my family were terrorists. It was meant to send a message to humans throughout the galaxy.

As an N6 designated solider, I had been deployed to multiple planets in various systems on peacekeeping, and more often, peace making missions. Our colonization efforts tended to strike a chord among other species and it was often necessary to deploy Alliance soldiers to ensure peaceful settlement and sustainable relations between humans and other species.

The revelation that we were not alone in the universe united humanity in a way many would not have thought possible. However, it is sometimes easy for us to forget that humans have a long-standing history of cruelty towards one another. We learned to fight each other before we fought other species. Despite our new unity, we continue to be divided along ethnic, religious, and cultural lines.

We are social animals. We seek out communities for protection and survival. And we fight for resources and the right to live.

The first time I killed another human being, it was completely out of instinct.

We were sent to Moros, a small rock planet with an average temperature of -73 and a population of around 28,000. Each city-state of Aite (a nearby doomed Garden world plagued by violence) claims the rights to exploit the planet for its heavy metal deposits; individual city-state governments maintain three small habitats on Moros, as far away from one another as possible. Nevertheless, the planet's wars have extended here, and the habitats infrequently send commando teams to assault each other in small-unit actions.

The inhabitants of Moros have, over time, set large numbers of antipersonnel and antivehicular mines at common choke points across the planet as a method of defense against each other.

Violence on Aite was worsening and the Alliance feared for human inhabitants, so my unit was there to ensure the safe evacuation of cooperative human settlers.

One Saturday night in July, our squad was patrolling in the border town of Keady. As usual for a Saturday night the streets were packed with locals searching for the only form of entertainment available on Moros, drinking and dancing. We had been moving over some wasteland and came into a patch of dead ground that hid us from view. As we reappeared over the brow, we saw twenty or so people milling around an old armoured truck that was parked in the middle of the road. They didn't see us until we were almost on top of them.

Six mercs with machine guns had been about to climb into the truck, and we had caught them posing in front of the crowd, masked up and ready to go, their guns and fists in the air. Their plan was to drive south to hit the settlement at Gibriltar, and give us a spray as they went by. We got there first.

I motioned for us to halt and take a knee and I gave the hand signal for six enemies, a 'thumbs down' followed by the number six. Will immediately came up beside me to listen for my plan.

Born in England to a Swedish mother and a Scottish father, Will Early had moved to Australia for medical school. He passed his medical exams but hankered too much for the active, outdoor life and quit his first year as a junior doctor. He spent a year training hard before selection, and by all accounts he cruised it.

Anything physical was a breeze for Will, including picking up women. Six foot three, big framed and good looking, he got them all sweating. On his own admission, Will's ideal woman was someone who didn't eat much and was therefore easy to entertain, and who had her own car and house and was therefore independent and unlikely to cling. No matter where he was in the universe, women looked at Will and drooled.

Apart from his success with women, the most noticeable and surprising thing about Will was his sense of fashion. He had none. Safari shirts, and pants that were always somehow too short, accompanied by a floppy hat and large sunglasses. He dressed like a cartoon character.

All in all a very approachable, friendly character in his late twenties, there was nothing Will couldn't take smoothly in his stride. That was, until he met Laurie, fell in love and had his little boy Russell.

"Take Stan and move around to flank them from the right." I whispered, "I'll take Digger and knock on their front door."

Stan was 37 and immensely strong. He was an expert mountaineer, diver and skier, and jumper. He walked everywhere, even up hills, as if he had a barrel of beer under each arm. The only complaint in his life was that he was approaching the end of his 22 years' engagement. He looked rough, with coarse curly hair and sideburns and a big moustache. He was a very useful man to have around when it came to planning.

Will nodded and tapped Stan on his shoulder and they disappeared. Digger and I strolled right up to them.

Originally with the Para Division, Digger was a veteran of the First Contact War and had trained with David Anderson. He looked the part as well – rough and tough with a voice that was scary and eyes that were scarier. But behind the soccer hooligan face lay a sharp, analytical brain. Digger could polish off the Alliance Daily News' crossword in no time, much to my annoyance. He was an excellent football player and an absolutely lousy dancer. But when it came down to a fight, he was solid and unflappable.

The crowd went mad, shouting and running in all directions, pulling their kids out of the way.

Two were climbing into the back as I issued my warning, and four were still standing in the road. One merc was now fully facing me, desperately attempting to swing the long barrel rifle across his body to align with my chest. His eyes locked on mine – wild frantic eyes surrounded by fields of white snow. They never left mine, not even when my powerful MG rounds tore into his stomach, walked up his chest, and cut the carotid artery on the left side of his neck. His body hit the ground with a thud, blown apart by the blast of my gun, and still the eyes remained riveted to mine. The others returned our fire and we were in a severe contact.

When smoke cleared, all four of us were alive, and all six of them weren't.

Prior to this moment I had never killed a human being. That is, I did not know for sure that I had killed. When one is firing at moving shadowy figures in the confusion of battle one cannot be certain of the results.

Weeks earlier we had placed charges on Bridge 19, a main supply route (MSR) used by mercenaries and pirates for weapons trafficking, and blown it, and the enemy convoy to kingdom come. But somehow, this incident was psychologically different than killing up close. They were a long way off, and the cover of night hid their shapes and movement, and their very humanity. These men were close. Not close enough that I could feel them die, but close enough that I could see the look in their eyes when I killed them.

Instinct and training took over. The second that merc raised his weapon I didn't think; I acted in accordance with my training and the rules of engagement. _I didn't feel a god damn thing._

He was a terrorist, a mercenary, a pirate. He prayed on the weak and the undefended. As far as I was concerned, there was a special place in hell reserved for he and his buddies and I was more than happy to send him there myself.

In Ancient Greek mythology, Moros is the personification of impending doom. He drives every being, mortal or otherwise, to its fated end. I was happy when, two months later, the last of the humans were evacuated and we were off that rock.

Little did I know I would be sent to Sidon, a large terrestrial planet with wide, cold deserts, and a bit of a sordid history. In the 2160's, the Alliance established a small domed research facility on Sidon. The project was classified until a Blue Suns attack brought the facility into full public view, causing a PR crisis for human settlement outside the Sol system.

In 2165, Groto Ib-ba, a high powered batarian mercenary was a member of the Blue Suns when they were contracted by Edan Had'dah, a wealthy batarian, to attack and destroy the research base at Sidon. Although Groto wasn't directly involved in the attack he, like all Blue Suns at the time, shared in the bounty of the operation. His knowledge of Blue Suns activity however attracted the attention of one Saren Arterius, who was investigating the attack on Sidon.

When Groto chose to spend his credits at a high-class brothel called the Sanctuary, intending to hire a human escort for the evening and take out his hatred of humans on her, Saren acted. The Spectre brutally tortured Ib-ba until he had what he needed, and then murdered Groto by breaking his neck.

Since then the research facility made Sidon a target for mercenaries and pirates, looking for valuables, resources, and research data on the weapons systems being developed there. The facility remained under Alliance control amid sporadic mercenary attacks, until the spring of 2176 when Alliance intel suggested the Blue Suns were planning a full scale attack in an attempt to take the facility and the weapons contained therein.

Locals also resented the presence of the Alliance, and its ability to attract dangerous attention. Several rebel groups had popped up and participated in random, ineffective attacks. With an average temperature of -62, colonization on this planet was not for the faint of heart and the locals were tough. It wasn't until rebel groups started hitting researchers and their families that the Alliance intervened.

We landed at Koura to find the weather characteristically unpleasant. Blowing snow and freezing temperatures. I was sick of ice worlds. Even to this day, on a really cold night, I'll look at Liara and tell her how glad I am I'm not trudging through the frozen wastelands of Sidon.

When we arrived at the isolated hangar that was to be our home for the next week, I got things squared away and answered the first three questions you always ask when you arrive at a new location: where do I sleep, where do I eat, and where's the toilet?

We were crammed amongst all kinds of equipment including vehicles, shuttles, food, ammunition, weapons, and armour. There was gear anywhere, and Will couldn't resist taking whatever he could. I made my space out of several large crates containing outboard engines, and covered it with a ranger blanket to shelter me from the powerful lights over head. That night, the four of us crowded around our ration cookout and sorted our kit out. We knew we were going somewhere to do something, so the best we could do was prepare for anything. It's all very well doing all the exciting things, abseiling, fast roping, jumping through buildings, but what being special forces is mostly about it thoroughness and precision.

For the next few days, we brushed up on our skills with explosives, map reading in cold desert conditions, and heavy weapons handling.

Five days after arriving on Sidon, I was summoned to the conference room for orders along with another squad leader, Rob.

Rob, all 5'2 of him, was despite his size, immensely strong both physically and in character. He always insisted on carrying the same load as everyone else. Sometimes, it was good for a laugh. All you'd see was this giant ruck sack with little legs going at it like pistons underneath. At home, his hobbies included watching old black and white comedies, dancing, and chatting up women a foot taller than himself. He liked to stand either on the bar stool, or on the bar itself when speaking to a woman.

We stood in the conference room, my team and Rob's, very silent. The Alliance always sent two teams when they believed there was a high chance one of them would fail.

We were going in to eliminate Blue Suns leadership on Sidon. The reason the Alliance was not going to send in a full-scale attack was because the Blue Suns were useful in some ways, and their extermination was not warranted. New leadership was already set and ready to take over, all we had to do was set the conditions. Once new leadership was in place, the Blue Suns would abandon their pursuit of the facility, and peace would be established.

The trouble was doing so quietly, making it look like a an accident or an internal dispute. Real undercover black ops stuff. I was excited. This was my chance at an N7 designation. If I survived, that is.

We had our mission, and we spent the next few hours pouring over maps and planning. Will set out with a shopping list to gather as much extra equipment as he could, and set up our shuttle insertion into enemy territory.

Rob's team would try to go in through the intricate underground tunnels, while my team would insert, 50km from their base, and infiltrate under cover of darkness. Driving was not an option. The ground was too open and we'd be spotted or heard. We'd have to go in on foot, set up shop along the MSR, and wait for a convoy filled with Blue Suns leadership to leave for a meeting that had been arranged between them and the largest local rebel group at the time, the Batroun. The convoy would go boom, and the Batroun would be blamed. Two birds with one explosion. Extraction would follow 20km away where we would be picked up in a nearby border town.

I would stay in contact with Rob, while he attempted to accomplish the same feat underground. Both our plans hinged on making it look like an IED attack. However, being underground, his plan was much more complex and I was confident I'd get there first. There was a case of beer in it for my team if we did.

We used the next day to prep ensuring our equipment was evenly distributed so that in the event any of us were taken out, we'd still be able to carry on. Even with just packing the essentials (food, water, and ammunition) our packs weighed in at 209lbs.

Will had a ritual that I always somewhat envied. He always wrote four letters before deploying on any Op. One for his wife Laurie, telling her he loved her and not to be sad, one for his parents saying the same thing, one for me letting me know that if I botched the job as executor of his estate, he'd come back to haunt me, and one to his son Russell to read when he was older. He always gave the letters to his friend Frederick, who worked in the QM to be distributed in the event of his death. He did this every single time we deployed.

I would watch him, and listen to my music. I never worried about dying. My attitude to the work I was expected to do had always been that you take the money off them every month, you're a tool to be used, and you are. I kept myself fit and finely tuned because my body was a tool used for killing. I never did so blindly. I was bound by law to carry out my duties professionally and with regard for all laws and treaties set by Council space and Alliance Military Law. If I was ever given an unlawful order, it was my duty, as a soldier, to refuse to carry it out. But it doesn't change the fact that a soldier is employed for one specific purpose.

That night at around 0200 zulu time, we loaded onto the shuttle and flew, in darkness to our drop point. Everyone sat in silence, Will slept, Stan chain-smoked, and Digger went through Will's kit, searching for red survival chews. We were issued packs and packs of flavoured candies that contained about 1500 calories each. They were meant for emergencies when food was out and extraction was days away. Digger only liked the red ones.

I listened to the comms so I could hear the chatter between the pilots.

The words "lock-on" snapped us all back to reality.

I shouted it to my team. And they repeated it back, bracing for impact. The pilots were so calm when speaking to each other, evading the rocket that had been launched at our shuttle.

"Breaking left." We were thrown to one side of the shuttle.

"Fifty feet, right." We were being thrown and tossed as the rocket drew closer and I could hear a little fear in their voices. I threw off the headset and thought 'if this is it, I don't want to hear it.'

The shuttle deployed its flares and the rocket exploded mid air. We were safe, but now we were exposed.

"That was fun but let's not do it again." I said as I placed the headset back on.

"It's alright for you," came the response, "but we have to come back this way."

I laughed a little before the fact sank in that we'd be dumped further from our drop point than planned. No plan, no matter how well laid, survives contact with the enemy.

We exited the shuttle as quick as possible and established a defensive posture about 100m away as the shuttle took off and left us there in the silent cold dark. We had our two-minute listening halt, and waited to see if the enemy had tracked us down. Silence indicated we were in the clear so we started marching.

It was over a two-hour hike to the MSR and there was always a danger in finding a hide in the pitch dark. You ran the risk of waking up in the middle of a housing complex. We set up our tent in a long trench and covered it in snow, effectively camouflaging it.

The sun rose and I poked my head above the ridge to observe the traffic running along the road. The MSR was not a paved road, but a wide, vague outline of tracks about 200m wide. We were still a solid 20km from our intended mark.

But we had a problem.

The Blue Suns had set up a checkpoint along the route and they were right on our doorstep.

I walked over to Will who was in the middle of relieving himself. Stan was being a good friend and holding the bag out for him. Whatever we brought in we took out. We left _nothing_ behind.

"We're going to have to move." I said, looking down and trying to ignore the sounds Will was making.

"Now?"

"No. We'll wait till it's dark." I let Will finish his business and made my way to Digger, who was having no luck reaching Rob or anyone else on the comm.

"Anything?" I asked.

"No. Fucking piece of shit Alliance issued garbage." He grumbled in reply. Digger was not an eloquent man.

I smiled, not worried at this point. "Not an issue. The shuttle team will be at the RV tonight with a new one if they don't hear from us."

"We going to take our kit?" The thought of lugging that 200lb pack back to the RV was genuinely frightening. Even for a guy like Digger.

It's always dangerous to leave kit and then go back to it. The risk of booby-trapping is high, and of course, someone could be waiting for an ambush. But sometimes, it needs to be done.

So there was nothing left to do but sit and wait. In a cold climate, if you're not moving or eating, you're freezing. So we ate as much as we could, slept in shifts in the tent, and kept watch on the Blue Suns check point.

We sat there for the better part of the day before Stan pulled on the string attached to my arm, and gave me a thumbs down. My body went on high alert as I prepared to jump for my gun and fight, until he waved it off. A truck full of Blue Suns had broken down on its way to the check point, and they were far enough away that it was a non issue.

Digger was still having an issue with the comm. He suggested that we might have a bum frequency, meaning, even if we got a new radio we still wouldn't be able to communicate. We all decided we would make for the RV that night.

Then it happened.

We heard the crunching of the snow getting closer and closer. Someone was coming toward us. We all grabbed our rifles and hugged to the edge of the ditch and waited. A batarian had made his way to our hide with the intent of relieving himself out of view of the others. This bashful batarian took one look at the guns pointed at him and was clearly ready to make a run for it. That is, until Will grabbed one of his legs, pulled him down to our hide, and stabbed his throat in one smooth motion. Blood makes a terrible mess of the snow.

We knew we didn't have long before his friends got wise and went looking for him. So we rucked up, and prepared to move to the RV immediately.

"Dig, get on the net and tell them in plain speech we have a compromise and we're heading for the RV." I turned to the others, "Alright listen in," my command voice and presence taking over. "We're going to find the dead ground south to the RV." I continued. "If we make good distance now, we'll have the cover of darkness for the rest."

You fill your canteen, you stuff as much food as you can into your face, if you're Stan you light up two or three smokes and suck them back as fast as you can. You get ready to move and you don't know for sure how long you'll be moving.

We started out, Stan in the lead, myself right behind, Digger third, and Will, my second in command, taking up the rear.

We were outnumbered and in the open so we spread out in a line, spaced out about 100m apart, heading towards the RV. We were out of view from the MSR and the Blue Suns check point, but that would soon change.

What I suspect happened is that someone discovered the batarian buried beneath the bloody snow, ran back to the check point, and mobilized them. Snow leaves tracks. We all stopped when we heard the sound of armoured vehicles coming our way.

"Stand to!" I cried, and the others repeated me. We dropped our bags and I took up a position standing in the middle as the others dropped to the ground and pointed their guns in the general direction of the sound.

Of course you're afraid. Any one who says they're not is either a psychopath or needs to see a shrink. You want to make the biggest effort possible to hide it. You get a spoon out and start digging if it will help. And then the training takes over. You psych yourself up, check over your pouches and armour, pop the feed cover of your gun to make sure the snow hasn't got in, you make sure your magazines are on tight.

"What's happening?" I yelled, still standing, "What's happening behind me, Will? Talk to me!"

"I can't see jack shit but I can hear em' they're a yard half right!" He shouted back immediately.

Stan yelled "Ready!" as loud as he could, and we waited.

Furthest from your mind is the thought of falling back. In fact it isn't there at all. So you stand your ground and listen, and wait.

"Digger!" I yelled, "you ready?!" I hadn't heard from him yet and I jumped a little when I heard his rocket fire and strike an armoured vehicle about 500m away. He was ready.

"Here it comes! Stand your ground!"

Blue Suns started pouring from the vehicle, quickly taking aim at us. We opened up a line of heavy MG fire through their disorganized gaggle of panicking troops.

The noise is incredible, but I never hear it. I only hear the sound of the thermal exchange in my gun kicking in with each round fired. I get a sort of tunnel vision in a heavy contact. Time slows down a bit. I can concentrate on my breathing, remembering my training as I track each target and pull the trigger. At the apex of each kill there is a moment, outside of space and time, a perfect moment. A silent moment, before the world comes screaming back.

Another vehicle was coming over the ridge, and Stan got on one knee and took him out with a rocket before I could even say anything.

I knew at this point the entire checkpoint would be mobilizing and calling for back up. We were in it now, and there was no turning back.

"Will! Stand by!" I yelled as I got up and dashed about 50m forward into the oncoming fire, taking Digger with me.

You've got to move forward and take the fight to them. It's the last thing they're expecting. You're dead anyway. So anything you do is a bonus.

The general rule in a section attack is 'Up. He sees me. Down.' You get up, dash as far as you can, drop to the ground and start shooting while the team behind moves through you.

"Covering!" I put a line of fire down towards the enemy. They were disjointed and confused and were falling back.

"Moving!" I heard Will as he and Stan started running through us.

The second I saw them drop I took my eye out of my sight and got up and dashed. "Moving!" The snow was flying up all around us as we dashed in a zig zag towards the gun fire. We had them on their heels and they were collecting their injured as fast as they could and retreating.

We were four men attacking a platoon, and they were running from us. Time to press the advantage.

We continued our leapfrog fire team movement until we got to the ridge and were able to use the natural cover. There, we formed a firing line and picked them off, one by one as they ran through the open field.

When it was over, and all we could hear was the wind blowing through our helmets, we did a sweep through their lines. You are most alert when consolidating, because this is the best time for a counter attack.

I watched Digger walk past a body and spin on his heels as the merc reached for his weapon and Digger planted two more rounds into him.

"Fucking outrageous." Will laughed. We had just lived through the biggest contact any of us had ever experienced.

The question was, what now?

"Here's the plan." I said, panting. "We head west across the MSR until it gets dark, and then we sort ourselves out. Call for air support and extraction." Hitting the convoy was out. I hoped Rob was having better luck.

For the next several hours we conducted a fighting withdrawal against the Blue Suns back up that had arrived. When we finally broke contact we ditched our rucks and started running before finally stopping on a ridgeline that provided us some shelter from the wind. Digger had hurt his leg, and Stan was dehydrating.

Stan took out a candy and immediately spit it out. "Ugh. It's a green one."

"Give it here, I'll have it." Offered Will. He popped it in his mouth as we all started to relax a little.

"Aren't you going to ask me, Doctor?" Stan inquired.

Will smiled and chewed on the candy, "Ask you what?"

"How my herpes is doing."

We all had a good laugh. Broke up the tension while Digger and I sorted out the radio. Nothing.

"Alright. Options. We either head for the shuttle RV, or we make for the Alliance camp."

Will was always calm in a crisis. He gave no sign of his emotions when he asked, "How far is the camp?"

"Line of sight?" Stan piped up, "About 170km."

Digger scoffed. "That's a hell of a hike, Shep. On the other hand, there's a lot of pissed off people between us and the RV."

"And even if we make the RV it doesn't mean the shuttle will." Stan added. "Where there's one set of guns there'll be more. Many more."

We looked around to each other and it was obvious we had made our decision.

"We make for the Alliance then." I said. I looked at Digger and asked him if he was up for it, he had strained his hamstring on the run to get to this point. He nodded yes. Good enough for me.

"Digger, you take lead scout." I wanted him to set the pace. "I'll be right behind you with Stan third and Will in the rear."

Stan snorted. "Yeah he always likes it in the rear."

We had another laugh and set out.

And so, we ran. We'd left the contact well behind and we were looking good. Until the weather changed.

A massive storm landed and slowed us right down. The worst part was that we were sweating from running, and the weather was making us freeze. Even in an enviro suit, hypothermia was going to become an issue if we didn't stop soon and get warm. We kept running until we found a suitable hide, and bunkered down for the last hour or so of darkness. That night, we did 85km. That's two marathons. Stan was hypothermic, and we spent the next day trying to keep him alive with whatever supplies we were carrying.

He made it through the night and the following day, and as night fell again we picked up and started running. Two more marathons to go.

We arrived at the Alliance camp just before first light, exhausted, starving, frozen, but alive. We were checked out by the medical staff and cleared for debrief. Rob had made it and blown the convoy, and was eagerly expecting his case of beer on our next shore leave.

There was a small ceremony for the eight of us as we were awarded our N7 designations. David Anderson was there, and he pinned the N7 logo on my uniform himself. He smiled and shook my hand like my father would have, full of pride.

I had failed my mission, but I had somehow managed to get everyone back alive.

"If you go through life never having failed," Anderson told me at the reception, "you'll have no idea how to handle it when you do. And men will die because of it."

The responsibilities of a combat leader represent a remarkable paradox. To truly be good at what he does, he must love his men and be bonded to them with powerful links of mutual responsibility and affection. And then he must be ultimately willing to give the order that may kill him.

"Sometimes, your plan goes to hell the second you step out the door. All you can do is try to get the job done, and get back with as many as possible. You did good, son. You did real good. You deserve this. Welcome to the N7 branch."

It felt good to have Anderson's approval, and the N7 branded to every single piece of kit I could slap it on.

We were awarded with two weeks of shore leave on Elysium as decompression time before heading back to Rio on Earth.

That was before the Blitz.


	9. Elysium

_**A/N: **__Feeling a little discouraged after the last chapter. Not a lot of views. It was a little long but I needed to introduce the characters a bit, especially Will. I tried to be less detailed with the combat in this chapter._

_The actions of Shepard are based on Sergeant Dipprasad Pun of the Royal Gurkha Rifles, who killed between 15-30 Taliban fighters single handed. _

_PLEASE REVIEW. I need to know if I'm doing something wrong here! Hah..._

_sigh._

* * *

_To the Elysian plain…where life is easiest for men. No snow is there, nor heavy storm, nor ever rain, but ever does Ocean send up blasts of the shrill-blowing West Wind that they may give cooling to men._

— Homer, Odyssey (4.560-565)

In Ancient Greek mythology, Elysium is a conception of the afterlife, separate from the realm of Hades. Admission was initially reserved for mortals related to the gods and other heroes. Later, it expanded to include those chosen by the gods, the righteous, and the heroic, where they would remain after death, to live a blessed and happy life.

The first time I ever heard myself referred to as a 'hero', I was standing on Elysium, exhausted, scared, and alone. I survived for one reason: I thought I was going to die. Maybe that's why I dislike the label so much.

In reality, Elysium is considered an 'alpine paradise' with an average temperature of 8 degrees (compared to -62, it's a tropical paradise), and a population of around 8.3 million. Founded in 2160, Elysium is humanity's oldest colony in the Skyllian Verge. The population grew fast: in 2165, only five years after its founding, it boasted a population of several million inhabitants, nearly half of them aliens. Because of the large non-human population, extra security screening procedures are required, and access to the planet is kept under strict control.

Being Alliance personnel returning from task on Sidon, we were able to avoid most of the security checks and measures upon arriving on the planet. We stayed at a renowned resort in Attica, a mostly city with a population of around 500,000.

The aim of decompression is to provide a friendly environment that allows you time to start 'winding down' after an operational tour, prior to rejoining friends and family back home. All Alliance personnel returning from duty in the Skyllian Verge are allotted at the very least 48 hours of decompression time. It provides time to talk through your memories with friends and colleagues who have shared similar experiences to your own. It also provides an opportunity to start thinking about the challenges and issues of re-entry and living in the home environment.

I didn't have a family to go back to, and all of my friends were military. I never really required decompression, but for guys like Will, soldiers who had a family to reintegrate with when they returned, it was an invaluable resource.

While military life satisfied my constant search for excitement and an outlet for my aggression, it also gave me an appreciation for quiet. I enjoyed solitude whenever I could find it. It gave me a chance to reflect, or in some cases, escape. I found listening to music was the best way to accomplish this. Even during training, on my bunk in a room with sixty other, rather stinking men, music could take me away.

It was morning on the fourth day of our shore leave, and I was sitting at a coffee shop just down the street from our hotel when Will took the seat across from me. He was wearing cargo shorts with socks and sandals that contrasted with the relatively cool temperature outside. His 'lucky' t-shirt, frayed around the collar, the screen-printing completely faded and discoloured from being so well worn.

"10 o clock back home." He said in a tired, scruffy voice that was the result of the events of the previous evening. "5 o clock in New York."

"Yeah. Happy hour." I smiled.

"A little dinner before a show." He looked around and sighed. "A civilized place for civilized men." When Will had joined the Alliance, he was a single man. Now he had a family to consider, and he was being constantly torn between the two. I suspected he was not far off from turning in his stripes.

"Should have been born earlier, Will."

"What? And give up all this?" He laughed. "I miss London. When we get back to Earth I'll take you back there. We'll find you a girl to settle down with. Someone Laurie can talk to while we go out and get pissed at this little pub just down the way. I know the owner."

I thought about it, but settling down was never really a realistic option for me. I had found my purpose in life and I completely intended on seeing it through to the end, whatever end that was. I loved my work, and more than that, I was good at it. I loved the feeling I got before heading into combat and I craved the nervous, excited knots that would tie up my stomach before leaving a shuttle.

"Sounds like a plan." I smiled at Will and sipped my coffee.

When the dreaded siren sounded suddenly wafting through the air, screeching out its deafening high and low wailing, warning sounds, everyone, including Will and I, looked around at each other in confusion. Was than an air raid siren, or a storm warning? An air raid on Elysium? Really?

After a couple seconds, though, the wail was unmistakable, like something out of an old World War II vid.

In some cases, people only have fifteen seconds from the sound of the warning to the possible explosion. Fifteen seconds is not a very long time. In some cases, it takes close to fifteen seconds to catch your breath and remember where the closest shelter is.

Once it clicked, Will and I sprang from our table, knocking the seats over while civilians grabbed whatever belongings they could, scooped up their children, and scrambled for the nearest shelter.

While our kit was safely stored in a strong box at the hotel, our weapons were taken from us upon arrival and held at the Alliance base. A thousand different options flooded my head, not one of them included running for a shelter.

Batarian drop ships were beginning to flood the sky as the first of the explosions rang out. The sky turned that same, sickly orange it had when the bararians descended on Mindoir, and set my home on fire. Elysium at least had a warning system and a plan for an attack, however unlikely the prospect of one was.

The streets were emptying rapidly with civilians rushing to find cover wherever they could. The first of the drop ships were landing, and gunshots started ringing out. Alliance presence on Elysium was small. There were probably more personnel on shore leave than there were posted to the base.

Noticing the number of haircuts in the vicinity of the café Will and I were in, I took charge. Someone had to. I never saw myself as being special; I just saw myself having more responsibilities than the next man. People have always looked to me to do things for them, to have answers. I've always just tried to do my best.

I started shouting over the crowd, and the wailing of the siren to no avail. I couldn't establish control amongst the chaos. That was, until Will used his piercing whistle and screamed 'shut the fuck up' in his loudest booming voice. I've always envied the power of the non commissioned officer. The crowd silenced and I stood on a chair.

"Who here has military experience?" I yelled and hands went up. "Right! You there," I pointed to a young civilian man who appeared calmer than the rest. "Take these civilians to the nearest shelter. The rest of you, with me!"

When you're existing, life happens to you, and you manage; when you're living, you happen to life and you lead.

I had experienced this scenario before, six years prior, on my home planet. I had been helpless to stop the murder of my family, my friends, and the destruction of everything I had ever known. It would not happen again. Not to me. Not to these innocents. I now had the chance to fight back and I had all the tools the Alliance had given me.

We made for the police station a few blocks away, and were armed with a variety of assault rifles, pistols, and flash bang grenades upon our arrival. I split the group in two, Will leading one and myself with another. Will and I linked into a short range comm system so we could speak to each other and established contact with the small Alliance ground teams that had already deployed. The thought of Digger, Stan, and even Rob popped into my head. But Will assured me they were 'big and ugly enough to take care of themselves'.

While a massive battle raged overhead, drop ships were still landing and batarian mercenaries were flooding into the city. A quick discussion with the ranking police officer at the station revealed the batarians were focusing their energy on the minimally defended Alliance base, and it would only be a matter of time before they broke through.

We were still in the city, and a small residential area that we would surely have to pass through separated us from the base. We had to get there before batarian forces broke through and gained access to the Alliances AAA guns, missile capabilities, and air-space-coordination. With access to the base, the invading batarian forces could easily take control of the skies.

We fought our way through small pockets of resistance as we moved through the streets and up to the residential area called 'Garden Estates.' It was engulfed in flames and drenched in chaos. Trees were blown apart, and tall beautiful homes full of bullet holes stood still while the flames clawed at their sides. I closed my eyes for a second and when I opened them again, I could have sworn I was standing back on Mindoir. Only this time, I wasn't afraid, I was angry, but driven and very focused. I had been trained for this.

For some of the seventeen men and women following Will and I through the streets, the experience of killing was something new to them. But training would prevail. I firmly believe that you do not rise to the occasion in combat; you sink to the level of your training.

Whatever you train to do comes out the other end. Self-preservation can become secondary to training. Any natural or learned resistance to killing, any sense of the sanctity of life, any human emotions, any remorse or compassion at the moment of truth, can all be overcome and overwhelmed with training. I saw this in action that day on Elysium. Soldiers from all trades, air-crew, clerks, nurses, marines, intel ops, they were all soldiers first, and they were all trained to kill.

When a machinegun nest at a roadblock suddenly pinned us down, Will came up beside me and pulled out his datapad, brining up the map.

"Any ideas, mate?"

I glanced at the map, did a quick appreciation, and came up with my plan.

"Put down some covering fire with your team, I'll take mine through that alley and make the last push to the base."

"Thought you were going to say that." He laughed. "You sure you're up for the task?"

I smiled. "You sure you're up for yours?"

"I got the easy one." His expression suddenly became very serious. "Fucking stay on the comm and keep us updated. We'll be ready to disengage and back you up if necessary. "

He stuck out his hand and I shook it firmly, my expression matching his. We both knew what was at stake.

"Conserve your ammo and…take care of yourself." Will was my best friend. I wasn't sure if I was going to see him again. If I was going to see anyone again.

"Don't get sentimental on me now, Shepard. Just get your ass to that base, buy me a beer when it's all over."

I forced a smile and called for my team. Will ordered heavy suppressing fire on the machinegun nest as we sprinted to the alley. A young engineer named Cory was hit in the leg, and I left the nurse in my team behind to tend to him. They were covered from fire, but now I only had a squad of six to reinforce an entire Alliance base. I hoped I could pick some more people up along the way.

When we emerged from the alley we had a clear view of the main access to the base. A platoon of mercenaries had swarmed them, and the four soldiers stationed at the outpost had managed to take most of them out.

A firefight ensued as we stormed the outpost and took out the last of the mercenary platoon. My six team members were mostly out of ammo, and the four soldiers that had been defending the outpost were badly injured and needed medical attention immediately.

I caught my breath and looked around at the destruction before me. I knew another wave of batarians would be coming for this outpost at any moment, so I made the call.

I had my six evenly distribute their ammo, and take the four injured soldiers towards the inner safety of the base. They all looked at me like I was crazy, and initially refused to leave me there alone. As ranking officer I simply made their departure an order.

I do not believe that I am made of the stuff which constitutes heroes, because, in all of the hundreds of instances that my voluntary acts have placed me face to face with death, I cannot recall a single one where any alternative step to that I took occurred to me until many hours later.

I gathered whatever ammo I could, and made my way up to the observation tower and mounted the heavy machine gun on its tripod, and waited.

"Will, this is Shepard."

"What is it Shepard, I'm a little busy." I could hear gunfire in the background.

"I've reached the front gate outpost. I sent my team with four times casualties towards the base. Do not come through this way. I say again, do not come through this way."

"If you think I'm going to stay here and let you get all the medals, you've got another thing coming._"_

I laughed to myself as I took the grenades out of their boxes and lined them neatly beside me. "You stay there and get whatever civies you can to safety, Will. That's an order."

There was a long pause before he replied. "Aye aye, Sir."

The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him. I was almost certain I was going to die in that tower. But before I did, I would take as many batarians with me.

I took a few seconds to steady my breathing and gather my thoughts, and become calm. Ultimately, I thought, we're all dead men. Sadly, we cannot choose how, but we can decide how we meet that end so that we are remembered for what we truly are. My mother always said that "you could accomplish anything if you only put my mind to it". Not true. First you have to know, not fear, know that someday you're going to have to die. Then, and only then, can you accomplish anything.

The sky was filled bullets and the telltale contrails of rocket-propelled grenade fire, as seemingly out of nowhere somewhere between forty and fifty batarians launched an aggressive attempt to destroy me. Gunfire was flying in from every direction, rock and smoke was getting kicked up on every square inch of the ground, and my heart almost stopped as rocket fire blew giant chunks out of the tower I was laying in.

I never took my eyes out of my sights. In the moment when I truly understand my enemy, understand him well enough to defeat him, then in that very moment I also love him. I think it's impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves. And then, in that very moment when I love them... I destroy them.

One will hate you for taking his life, another will run to excesses that you scorn. A third will emerge mad and raving, another a monster you cannot control. One will be jealous of your superiority, another shut you out. But they will all be destroyed.

I blew through all four hundred rounds of ammunition for the machine gun – every single bullet in the rooftop bunker – in the span of just a few minutes. When the supply of large-caliber heavy weapons ammunition ran out, I ditched the MG and started grabbing grenades, two at a time, throwing them in every direction.

Seventeen high explosive fragmentation grenades cratered the landscape around me, and filled my enemies with pieces of hot, sharp metal fragments. With my machine gun and grenade supply depleted, I kicked over the ammo boxes, grabbed my standard issue police assault rifle and continued aiming and firing at the advancing batarians. And when that ammunition ran out after a minute, and the last batarian who was either delusionally insane or one of the bravest warriors in the history of warfare, ascended the tower to kill me, I beat him to death with the tripod of my MG.

I had accepted death completely, and I was determined to take as many to hell with me. I enjoyed the feeling I got when the batarian in my sights went down from my bullets, and I reveled in the sensation of killing as many as I could.

A bizarre set of perceptual distortions can occur in combat that alters the way the warrior views the world and perceives reality. It can truly be an altered state of consciousness, similar to what occurs in a drug-induced state. Shakespeare sums it up nicely as "In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire."

I heard the 'clack clack' sound of my weapon cycling as the slide moved forward and backward, ejecting spent casings and delivering fresh rounds into the breach, but not the deafening noise of the chaos around me.

And then quiet. The field was silent and still, and dead. I couldn't believe I was still standing.

"Shepard?" A faint voice came from the other end of the comm.

"Will, that you?"

"Good to hear your voice, mate."

Something was wrong. "Send sitrep. What's your status."

"We've shut down that MG nest and the boys are clearing out the houses, and securing the civies." He replied. "I'm hit, Shep."

The way he said it gave me all the information I needed. He was hurt bad, and he knew it.

"They've done first aid, but…." A pause. "I think I'm fading."

I didn't know what to say. "Just hold on."

"Nah." He said, and I could see his faint smile in my head, "I didn't get to write my letters." His voice was getting weaker. "You make sure you tell Laurie I love her, and to take the insurance money and have fun. And Russ…fucking don't let him be like us, Shep."

I sat down against the blown out ledge of the tower and brought my hand to my forehead. I suddenly wanted that trip to London with him, to find a wife, and live in peace. "Yeah."

"I'll see you on…on the other side, mate."

The truth is that the heroism of your childhood entertainments was not true valor. It was theatre. The grand gesture, the moment of choice, the mortal danger, the external foe, the climactic battle whose outcome resolves all - all designed to appear heroic, to excite and gratify and audience. Welcome to the world of reality - there is no audience. No one to applaud, to admire. no one to see you. Actual heroism receives no ovation, entertains no one. No one queues up to see it. No one is interested.

Will was my hero.

When the battle was over, reinforcements had arrived, and the smoke had finally cleared, the base commander quietly walked up to me, slowly looked me over, patted me once on the back, and simply asked, "You OK?"

I nodded, dazed but unhurt. The base commander nodded once and walked away without a word.

Long before that moment I yearned to be a hero without knowing, in truth, what a hero was. Now, perhaps, I understand it a little better. Every man is a hero if he strives more for others than for himself alone.

Liara once told me that the seeking counts more than the finding. So, too, must the striving count more than the gain.

I was awarded the Star of Terra for my efforts on Elysium. But all I had done was strive to kill as many as I could.

Stan and Digger had been killed when the hotel collapsed, and Will had died from his injuries.

I attended the memorial on Elysium for those who had paid the ultimate price, and stayed with Will's body as it was transported to Australia for burial. Laurie was stoic and composed as any military wife, but her eyes were bright with anger and sorrow when I handed her Will's tags.

I simply vowed to do better. And I desperately wanted to be a part of the retaliatory operations that were sure to follow.

First on Anhur. Then, Torfan.


	10. Torfan

_People should either be caressed or crushed. If you do them minor damage they will get their revenge; but if you cripple them there is nothing they can do. If you need to injure someone, do it in such a way that you do not have to fear their vengeance._  
― _Niccolò Machiavelli_

Hate is a very powerful word. It fuels intolerance, murder, and war. I hate rarely, though when I hate, I hate murderously. But if the actions on Anhur and Torfan have taught me anything, it's that no matter how much you hate or how much you suffer, you can't bring the dead back to life.

Elysium made me a war hero at the age of twenty-two and I was pegged as a 'streamer'. Within the Alliance Marines, and certainly within every other element, there is an informal council of elders – senior or retired officers who remain intimately connected to the life of the Marine Corps. These elders determine that Corps' individual culture and character. One of their key responsibilities is to select the so-called 'streamers'; the young men and women who the elders believe have the right stuff to become future generals or admirals. There is never any official announcement or acknowledgement of this process, but once you are chosen, it's as if an invisible hand is reaching out to guide you, nurturing your career through a carefully selected series of command and staff positions that test and prepare you for higher command.

I got my first real taste of higher command in the winter of 2177 in the midst of the Anhur Rebellions. With the legalization of slavery on the human dominated world, a civil war had broken out between those who sought to end slavery throughout the system and the other, primarily a batarian faction called the Na'hesit, sought to keep the slaves they had.

The Na'hesit had a significant advantage in ships, labor, and weapons, forcing the Anhur militias to hire mercenary companies to even the odds. A small contingent of Alliance Marines was sent to Anhur to oversee peace talks between the two sides, but at no point were we to intervene. We were meant to be referees, not coaches, and especially not players. We were there to create a climate of security, as any direct involvement would have resulted in an all-out war between the System's Alliance, and the Batarian Hegemony. It was a very delicate situation, and a very frustrating one.

Our ROEs (Rules of Engagement) were very clear; we were only to fire in self-defense. Our weapons were mostly just for show.

In some Allied systems, self-defense is controlled through ROE. Under the Alliance system, the use of force in personal, unit and force self-defense is separate from ROE. Whereas ROE may change during an operation, personal, unit and force self-defense is a constant. All members of the Alliance must know that, with or without ROE, they are entitled to use force in self-defense.

Without further written or oral direction Alliance personnel are entitled to use force in self-defense to

protect:

a) oneself;

b) other members of the Alliance; and

c) non-Alliance military personnel who are attached or seconded to an Alliance force against a hostile act or hostile intent.

The use of force in self-defense does not include the woman being beaten or raped on the side of the road, or the child being ripped from his mother's arms and dragged away to a slaver camp. It does not include the family whose home is being burned to the ground, or the business owner whose shop is being looted.

We did not have Peace Officer status. Therefore, we had no duty or obligation to become involved in any crime situation, other than to report the occurrence of any crimes to the civilian law enforcement authorities. Nevertheless, Alliance members may intervene to stop the commission of a serious crime where there is an immediate risk of serious injury or death of any person. The only caveat was, we could not hold them prisoner, or charge them under international law. They _had_ to be turned over to the local authorities.

We did what we could. But I never got over the gut retching feeling when I watched a slaver being hauled away by police, knowing he would be released hours later to commit the same disgusting crimes over and over again.

I always did my rounds with a crusty old sergeant, Roy Plante, a veteran of the first contact war. My troops needed constant reminders of the nature of the operation and they also needed a sounding board to talk over their difficulties. The sergeant and I spent countless hours out in the cold reinforcing and encouraging them. I have often been criticized for being an 'emotional' leader, but even during this early stage in my career, I believed that the magic of command lies in openness, in being both sympathetic to the troops and at the same time being apart, in always projecting supreme confidence in my own ability and in theirs to accomplish whatever task is set for us.

One bitter evening, my fifty-three soldiers were guarding the Anhur Ministry of Justice and central courthouse. I was inside with a small reserve force of five or six men. Everything was quiet, so quiet that the troops had actually been complaining of boredom.

All of a sudden, a car came screeching down the street and stopped dead in front of one of my soldiers. The driver got out of the car, cursing my troop up and down, and without any provocation, started beating up my soldier so severely that he ended up in the hospital. I had guards posted around the building so that everybody was covered off and no one was isolated, but none of them could move from their positions to help their buddy because of the possibility this was a trap or decoy.

They radioed for backup and we rushed to assist, and hauled the guy off and proceeded to make him regret whatever impulse had caused him to attack my soldiers.

I was proud of my men. They had endured incredible provocation and responded exactly as trained. It pleased me that Sergeant Plante and I had been able to build that level of skill and discipline in the troops, and they had used their heads and followed orders. It was my first taste of true command.

But it was also draining. To stand there and watch and not be able to act. To hold back every impulse I had to kill every batarian slaver I saw. It was a true test of my discipline, and more than that, my ability to instill discipline in others.

In the end the abolitionists won out, though at the cost of much of their infrastructure. I was sent back to Earth with my unit and took on a staff officer position at Alliance HQ in Vancouver. When I caught wind of a major retaliatory operation on Torfan known as Op NEMESIS, I immediately began petitioning to be a part of it. The name _Nemesis_ is related to the Greek word némein, meaning, "to give what is due".

I wanted to give back to those slavers what was due. But before I was going anywhere, I was summoned to meet with Captain David Anderson; the Operations Officer for all N7 qualified soldiers, and the man who had the ability to assign me to such an operation.

When I stepped into his office for the first time, I was astonished, like many others, to see a small keyboard piano jammed against the wall in the small office space.

He sat at his desk with a steaming mug in his hand as I snapped to attention at the door and fired off a salute.

"I hear you want in on Torfan." He stated as he motioned for me to sit. David Anderson was always one to get right down to business.

"Yes, sir."

He placed his mug down and leaned across the desk towards me. "Why." He knew why. He just wanted to hear me say it. But I knew better, and decided to tell him what I thought he wanted me to hear.

"Because I want to be a part of the war on piracy."

"No." he replied, very matter of factly, "You want revenge for your family."

My fists clenched and I felt my cheeks flush red with anger as the bitter truth spilled forth. It was exactly what I wanted, and I knew it would be the deciding factor in sending me on such an operation. I said nothing as David called his secretary on the intercom and ordered a cup of tea.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" He asked me, as if nothing had happened.

"I don't want tea," I replied, with muffled force. "I want to find the ones who burned my home. And then I want to find the ones in charge, and then I want to kill them."

"Unfortunately," said Anderson, "we're all out of bitter revenge at the moment, so it's either tea or nothing."

"Nothing then." I said, and started to rise.

"Sit down, Shepard." He raised his voice a little. Anderson's voice had a way of conveying authority when he wasn't trying to. "Anhur was a test, you know. To see if you could control yourself. If you could control your troops."

"Beware the fury of a patient man." I replied.

"You know," he started, "sometimes stories about heroes get on my nerves. Especially the ones where unfair things keep happening to the hero over and over, for no reason at all, and he valiantly overcomes it all." He stood and walked over to his window before continuing.

"Life isn't like that. Not every hero can stay valiant. Sometimes, they can't even stay a hero, so what does that make them?" He turned and looked at me, expecting an answer.

When I didn't answer, he smiled and sat back down and looked at me almost sympathetically.

"It makes them human." He said softly. "You're angry, I know. Hell, if anger were mileage, I'd be a very frequent flyer, right up there in First Class."

"So what?" I felt like I was seventeen again, being lectured on the curb outside of _Jim's_. I was annoyed with Anderson, and I wanted him to know it.

"So I don't let it dominate me. I don't let it define me. Don't let it define you." He opened a file on his desk and I watched his eyes scan the pages. "I'm sending you to Torfan." He finally said, almost dejectedly. "You'll be under the command of Major Kyle. You'll have a full company under you."

I was shocked. From the way our conversation had gone, I was sure there was no chance in hell I would be going anywhere. My heart jumped and I couldn't stop myself from cracking a small smile.

"Thank you, Sir." I stood and extended my hand to shake his. "I won't let you down."

He gave my hand two or three vigorous shakes before clamping down hard and drawing me in closer. "Don't let yourself down." He said, very seriously. He released my hand and I made my way to the door, snapping again to attention and saluting. He returned the gesture and I turned on my heels.

"Shepard?" He called, and I casually turned to face him. "Don't let it define you." He said softly, and I marched out of his office.

* * *

Every soldier hopes for a major war in his lifetime. This was mine.

Torfan represented one of the largest deliberate offensive operations since the First Contact War, and I learned every single detail right down to its bones. I was to take the headquarters building and secure potential high value targets, specifically Elanos Haliat, the one behind the Blitz. There was very little information on this character, no one was even really sure of his race; all we had was a name.

Intel had located a possible base of operations for criminal activity deep underground about fifty kilometers from the capitol city. This particular base was thought to hold all the major players responsible for the Skyllian Blitz.

The problem with an underground base was that reconnaissance would be almost impossible, artillery would not be effective, and tanks could not act as a firebase, assault force or provide intimate support. Infantry elements would be entirely on their own. And on foot.

Other options had been thought out, of course. Flooding, burning, and even collapsing the underground facilities had all been considered. But in the end, someone much higher up than I decided it was best to send in ground troops in order to minimize collateral damage.

I remember waiting in the rain with a single platoon behind me as the engineers breached one of the three entrances my company was responsible for. When the doors flew open, we were immediately bombarded with heavy machine gun fire. The batarian pirates had been expecting us, and they were well prepared.

It was here I learned that first reports are almost always wrong. Intel is a useful tool, but you can never fully rely on it. As my mother used to say, "trust those who seek the truth, but doubt those who say they've found it."

Three of my men went down almost immediately and we pushed forward, throwing down rocket fire on the machine gun position and eliminating the threat. I left half a section behind to stay with the wounded as the rest of us pressed on.

Contact reports were flooding the net, and were almost immediately followed by 9-liners, the Alliance standard for casualty reports. I tracked the enemy contacts and friendly sit reps, which indicated that we were taking heavy losses, but making gains as well.

To a significant degree, the social barrier between officer and enlisted man, between sergeant and private, exists to enable the superior to send his men into mortal danger and to shield him from the inevitable guilt associated with their deaths. For even the best leaders make some mistakes that will weigh upon them forever. Just as any good coach can analyze his conduct of even a winning game and see where he could have done better, so does every good combat leader think, at some level, that if he had just done something different these soldiers – these men and women he loved like family – might not have died.

Two out of three of my platoons were pinned down and unable to push into the main facility. I radioed up to Major Kyle that I was able to press on with the platoon behind me, and he accepted my suggestion. I told my troop leaders to hold their ground, so they would at least draw enemy fire and attention towards them as we made our way across the field, and into the main facility.

It is a touching fact that men who die in battle often call for their mothers. I have heard them do so in 27 different languages.

Tactically, I had done everything the way it was supposed to be done, but we lost some soldiers. There was no other way. We could not go around that field; we had to go across it. So did I make a mistake? I don't know. Would I have done it differently another time? I don't think I would have, because that's the way I was trained. Did we lose soldiers by doing it that way? That's a question that'll never be answered.

When we entered the facility, I had lost twelve men to either injury or death, but when I looked at the men who remained, I knew they wanted to carry on. They wanted to make the sacrifice of their brothers and sisters worth something. I was their commander, and I owed them that much.

By the time we had cleared the first floor, other Alliance personnel were entering the base and the facilities all around us. We had broken through, but at great cost.

I took five men, and we stacked along the wall, ready to burst through a large set of double doors. When we breached almost ten batarians in heavy armour threw their hands up in the air and surrendered immediately.

"Stand still," I bellowed. "Alliance troops; you're under arrest." I didn't want to do it that way, but I was still a soldier, and subject to the law, even though my enemies considered themselves above such things.

"Put your fuckin hands in the air and get on your knees, now!" A young corporal was screaming.

"Which one of you is Elanos Haliat?" I asked, in a much calmer voice, trying to quiet down the situation. No one responded.

I picked one batarian off the ground and slammed him into the wall. "I asked a question." I said. "I expect an answer."

I must have looked quite the sight, covered in mud, blood and grime. I was almost shaking with a mixture of adrenaline and pure hate for these pirates. I had discovered a veritable hornets nest of pirate leadership, and I had them all to myself.

"He's not here." The batarian in my grasp finally managed. His eyes were wide with fear as I roughly threw him to the ground with the others.

"Who's in charge here?" I asked. When no one responded again, I drew my pistol and aimed it at the head of one, now cowering, batarian. "Who. Is. In. Charge." Still, no answer. I moved the gun to the side an inch and fired, effectively shattering a set of eardrums.

"I am." Said the deep, hoarse voice on the other side of the room.

I walked over to him and his eyes followed mine. His skin held a black and yellow striped pigmentation with light green facial ridges.

"I am Ka'hairal Balak. This is my facility. These are my men."

"Were you on Mindoir?" I asked, slowly continuing to approach him.

"What?"

"Were you on Mindoir?" He just looked at me, almost snarling at me. His defiance was infuriating and I was already on the brink. Without even thinking I grabbed him and slammed him against the wall and screamed the question again, just inches away from his face.

"Yes!" He screamed back. "I was on Mindoir."

I drew my pistol again and jammed it against his forehead, trembling wildly. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you where you stand." I said.

The room was silent. I had completely forgotten the other Alliance soldiers under my command standing in the room. I can only imagine the thoughts rushing through their minds.

Revenge is the sweetest morsel to the mouth that ever was cooked in hell.

I hated this man instantly, without ever knowing him, because he was involved in the attack on Mindoir. He could have commanded the squad that murdered my family, he could have orchestrated the entire thing. But it was then that I realized that killing him wouldn't bring my family back. Killing him wouldn't bring my family justice. It would only cause more pain.

If you are still angry at the ones who have done you harm, if you haven't been able to forgive, you are chained to them. Everyone could feel the emotional truth of that: When someone offends you and you haven't let go, every time you see them, you grow breathless or your heart skips a beat. If the trauma was really severe, you dream of revenge. Above you, is the mountain of peace and prosperity where we all want to go. But when you try to climb that hill, the ones you haven't forgiven weigh you down. It's a personal choice whether or not to let go. No one can tell you how long to mourn a death or rage over a murder. But you can't move forward until you break that chain.

I wasn't ready to forgive, or forget, but I wasn't ready to destroy the last piece of myself for a sort of hollow vengeance.

Balak had closed his eyes and was prepared to die, so I understood when he was surprised when I let him down from the wall, stepped away, and radioed to higher that I had captured ten high value targets.

"I'm not going to kill you." I said. "But you better tell your friends to run. Because I'm going to destroy them for what they've taken from me. I will see them bereft of all that they have, of home and happiness and beautiful things. I will see your nation cast down and your allies drawn away. I will see them as alone and friendless and wretched as am I; and then they may live as long as they like, in some dark and lonely corner of the universe, and I shall call myself content."

Many authorities speak and write of emotional stamina on the battlefield as a finite resource. It has been termed as the Well of Fortitude. Faced with the soldier's encounters with horror, guilt, fear, exhaustion, and hate, each man draws steadily from his own private reservoir of inner strength and fortitude until finally the well runs dry. And then he becomes just another statistic.

Though an exemplary officer, the loss of so many men under his command was too much for Major Kyle to cope with, and he was given an honourable discharge after a psychiatric evaluation showed he was no longer fit for duty.

The honours and decorations that are traditionally heaped upon leaders at all levels are vitally important for their mental health in the years that follow. These decorations, medals, mentions in dispatches, and other forms of recognition represent a powerful affirmation from the leader's society, telling him that he did well, he did the right thing, and no one blames him for the loves lost in doing his duty.

The difference between Major Kyle and I was that his well had run dry, and mine was only just starting to be drained.

* * *

**A/N**:_ Let me know what you think about that. I've always wondered how a paragon Shep might have handled Torfan. A big thanks goes out to all the supporters and those of you who have taken the time to leave a review! Your opinions help and encourage me to continue or to add or subtract ideas for this story._

_I have two more weeks left in the field so I will only be able to update on weekends. So please stick with it! And continue to enjoy!_


	11. Flashes of Peace

What is a peacetime career in the Alliance? How do you grow as a leader when there is no conflict to test you? You train and train, and then you train others. I received a number of good training assignments, due in part, I believe, to the fact that I was still single and available, unlike many of my peers who were already married and raising young families. For some of us, the Alliance had to be a higher calling. The old attitude was that if the Alliance wanted you to have a family, they would have issued you one.

I was fortunate enough to be posted back to Vila Militar in Rio as an N training instructor. I was a little upset to be taken out of field action at first, but I quickly realized David Anderson's reasoning behind my posting out of the field and into the training system. The best way to master something is to teach it. I spent a full year running candidates through grueling N training, 'living in' in singles quarters right on the base, and using the opportunity to hone my skills. It was also during this time I realized the 'why' of all of it.

Danger is _not_ the main cause of psychiatric stress in soldiers. In fact, many seek out danger through roller coasters, action and horror vids, drugs, parachuting, hunting, contact sports, and a hundred other examples to enjoy the rush of a dangerous situation. To be sure, danger in excess gets old fast, particularly when we feel we've lost control of it. And the potential for death and injury is an important ingredient in the complex mixture that makes combat so stressful, but it is _not_ the major cause of stress in either our daily lives or in combat.

Facing aggression and hatred in our fellow citizens in an experience of an entirely different magnitude. It then becomes the duty of the instructor to inoculate the student against hate, so that when he is inevitably faced with the situation here someone he's never met is trying to kill him, he can perform without asking the question "what did I ever do to him?"

The drill sergeant who screams into the face of a recruit while he tries to stow his gear or assemble his weapon is manifesting overt interpersonal hostility. Another effective means of inoculating a trainee against hate can be seen in pugil stick fighting or boxing matches during boot camp. When in the face of all this manufactured contempt and overt physical hostility the recruit overcomes the situation to graduate with honour and pride, he realizes at both conscious and unconscious levels that he can overcome such overt interpersonal hostility. _He has become partially inoculated against hate._

Of course, in the N world, this inoculation was taken to a whole other level. Imagine replacing a screaming drill sergeant with the deafening concussion of live rounds splashing the ground all around you, or running through a field at night feeling the tanks shaking the ground and having no idea where they're coming from, or navigating through the claustrophobia inducing jungle being chased by a highly trained team of soldiers who, when they capture you, will put you through some form of 'resist' oriented training.

The old adage of train hard, fight easy is all too true, and I take it very much to heart.

With my training posting done, I was sent to the Alliance Academy of Interstellar Operations for preparation for my next task aboard a proper ship.

Because faster-than-light attackers always arrive before defenders can detect them with luminal sensors, attackers can always surprise defenders. For defense, fleets surround themselves with spheres of scouting frigates scanning for enemy ships and transmitting warnings to the main body.

Cruiser-weight starships are the standard combat unit encountered away from large naval bases, the "poor bloody infantry" of most fleets. Nimble scouting frigates have neither the punch nor the stamina to stand up to serious combat, and the mighty dreadnoughts are a strategic resource, carefully hoarded and committed to the most critical battles.

Cruisers perform routine independent "show the flag" patrols in settled systems and lead flotillas of frigates in small engagements, such as pirate suppression campaigns. In major fleet engagements, cruiser squadrons support the dreadnought battle line by screening their flanks against enemies attempting to maneuver for a main gun "bow shot" from their vulnerable broadsides.

My primary function aboard the cruiser _SSV Emden_ was as the Combat Department Head, a high position for someone as young as I was, responsible for all of the ship's weapons, sensors and operations. I had to possess the knowledge and expertise in a wide range of activities relating to the exercise of Alliance interstellar power, including strategy, tactics and procedures in the operation of ships, ground vehicles and aircraft, sensors, combat information and weapons systems. Officers aboard Alliance vessels also provide input into the design, procurement and evaluation of ships or systems and perform staff, training and administrative duties. I quickly learned that Sir Isaac Newton is, indeed, the deadliest son of a bitch in space.

The working environment included prolonged periods of physically and mentally demanding duties, and for that reason I quickly fell in love with the job. It took a few weeks to get over the feeling of being in constant motion, and of course, getting over the fact that there was no sun or moon to tell you when to sleep. But my newly chosen environment became second nature to me rather quickly. I knew that I was being groomed for an eventual position as an Executive Officer, the second in Command of a ship, and eventually command my own vessel.

From 2178 to 2183 I worked as part of a ship's crew, patrolling various areas in and out of Alliance space. I participated in the Theshaca Raids, successfully driving Terminus ships out of the Hong system completely. We sent boarding parties aboard suspected pirate vessels to examine a ship's cargo in a search for drugs, weapons, passengers which are unrecorded on the ship's manifest, or any other type of contraband that could possibly have been carried aboard.

True boarding assaults in this century are extremely rare, generally by small shuttles or by individuals, who enter the target vessel surreptitiously and exploit total surprise to seize control before resistance can be effectively organized. Modern-day pirates in space faring ships similarly depend on speed, stealth and surprise to take their targets, usually unarmed and poorly defended, without serious resistance.

I was on shore leave at Arcturus when I was summoned to meet with Admiral Steven Hackett, Commander of the Alliance Fifth Fleet. When I entered the office and snapped off my salute, I saw Captain David Anderson already seated across from Hackett, and a large, very intimidating turian in heavy black armour standing behind him. I recognized him immediately as Nihlus Kryik, one of the council's top Spectre agents. Cool under pressure, Nihlus had an uncanny ability to find an enemy's weakness and exploit it. He never hesitated to efficiently and thoroughly eradicate anything or anyone that stood in his way. I knew then, whatever they were going to tell me in that small office on Arcturus Station would be huge.

The _SSV Normandy _SR-1 (Systems Alliance Space Vehicle Stealth Reconnaissance 1) was a prototype "deep scout" frigate, first of the eponymous Normandy class, co-developed by the Alliance and the Turian Hierarchy with the sponsorship of the Citadel Council. She was optimized for solo reconnaissance missions deep within unstable regions, using state-of-the-art stealth technology powered by an experimental drive core.

With my new rank of Lieutenant Commander, I was appointed as Anderson's XO, and assigned to the _Normandy_ to conduct 'official' trials.

"Should the Normandy's design prove useful in field tests," Hackett told us, "it is expected that a follow-up class incorporating "lessons learned" will be produced."

Of course, there was more to it than that, but I figured that if I needed to know, they would tell me when the time was right.

I remember her commissioning very well. I was half running, half walking towards the bridge, listening to Flight Lieutenant Jeff "Joker" Moreau count us down on our approach. I wanted to get a front seat view. The mass effect relays have always fascinated me, and I find I get a little less motion sick when I can see the jump instead of just feel it.

Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, my Marine Detail Commander, was seated beside him as Jeff completed the FTL jump while Nihlus observed.

"Thrusters…check. Navigation…check. Internal emissions sink engaged. All systems online. Drift…just under 1500k."

"1500 is good." Nihlus stated in a voice that was clearly all business. "Your captain will be pleased." And he strode and walked away.

Joker sighed and shook his head, "I hate that guy."

"Nihlus gave you a compliment, so you hate him?" Kaiden inquired.

"You remember to zip up your jumpsuit on the way out of the bathroom? That's good. I just jumped us halfway across the galaxy and hit a target the size of a pinhead. So that's incredible."

Joker, like most pilots I've met, was cocky about his abilities. It comes with the territory. If your unsure or uneasy about your skills, you probably won't be able to deal with the stress of having hundreds of millions, or in our case billions, of credits sitting underneath you.

"The council funded this project," Kaiden said, "They have a right to send someone to oversee it's trials."

Joker let out another dismissive laugh. "Yeah. That's the official story. But only suckers go for the official story."

I couldn't help but agree. But I trusted my chain of command enough that if such information was a need to know, I would know when I needed.

"Such a pessimist." I interjected.

"Yeah well, bad feelings are an occupational hazard."

I smiled to myself and startled a bit when Anderson's booming voice erupted over the comm. "Joker. Send status report."

"Everything's good up here , sir. Stealth systems engaged. Board's running green." Joker replied quickly snapping back to focus.

"Good. Link us into a comm buoy and link us into the network. I want mission reports relayed back to Alliance before we reach Eden Prime."

"Aye, aye, Captain." Joker began pressing his console with trained precision in response to Anderson's order. "Oh, and you'd better brace yourself, sir. I think Nihlus is headed your way."

Joker always had a bit of a mouth. It went along nicely with his cocky attitude. "He's already here, Lieutenant!" Anderson replied in a louder tone of voice. "Send Shepard down here for a debriefing. And report to me after your shift to discuss your shift as duty officer for the next week."

Joker threw his head back and sighed, mentally kicking himself. "Yes, Sir." He turned to me as I was already on my way towards the comm room.

As I walked through the CIC to the comm room, there was an air of nervousness, of apprehension, and of mistrust. When soldiers don't know what's going on, or why they are doing something, or even simply where they're going, their minds are not focused on the task, and they are less likely to trust.

I did my best to quell their uneasiness but it was always in vein. My Chief Navigator Charles Pressly was particularly anxious, and arguing over the comm with Lieutenant Greg Adams, my Chief Engineer (CHENG). I quickly explained to them that while they were certainly allowed to have their concerns, to voice them publically over the bridge, was not such a good idea, and did not set a good example.

"Sir, I just don't understand why we're being left in the dark. It's obvious there's something big going on. Captain Anderson is too highly decorated to be commanding a simple shakedown run, and then there's Nihlus, a _turian_ Spectre. You don't send a top council operative, who operates outside of the law, on something as simple as this."

I was well aware of Pressly's xenophobia towards turians prior to this moment, however, I made a mental note to track his behaviour closely so as not to jeopardize any mission.

"Charles, I'll see if I can get some answers when I see the Captain. But for now, do me a favour and keep a cool head. And maybe see Doc Chakwas for some antacids." I smiled as I continued to the comm room and I was stopped by Corporal Richard L. Jenkins who was voicing the same concerns to our Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Karin Chakwas.

"Sir, do you think we'll be on Eden Prime long? I'm itching for some real action."

I laughed and took a stance to try to put him at ease, "Relax, Corporal. Having to discharge your weapon is usually considered a bad day."

"Sorry, Sir, I've just never been on a mission like this before. Certainly not with a Spectre!"

Jenkins was your typical nineteen year old Marine, fresh off of his phase training, and eager to get into a fight. He grew up on Eden Prime, and told me of its beauty and tranquility. I was looking forward to maybe having a few days rest there, or maybe explore the planet. The way Jenkins had described it to me, it sounded like paradise.

"Just treat this assignment like every other you've had, and you'll do fine." I said calmly.

"Easy for you to say, you proved yourself during the Blitz. Once we get off Eden Prime, and the real mission starts, it'll my chance to show the brass what I can do!"

"The only person you need to prove anything to is yourself, Corporal. You're young, and you have a long career ahead of you. Just remember your training and it'll all work out."

Every soldier hopes for a major war in his lifetime. This one was Jenkins'.

When I walked into the comm room, Nihlus turned to face me and greeted me with his usual "Ah, Commander Shepard." His eyes were bright green, he stood nearly a foot taller than me, and his facial markings were well defined and proud. He intimidated me at first, but he was never overtly hostile. I always felt like I was constantly being assessed or judged by him.

"I'm curious about this world, Eden Prime. It's become quite a symbol for humanity hasn't it? Proff that you can not only establish colonies across the galaxy, but also protect them. But how safe is it, really?"

I hate it when people ask me questions to which they already know the answer.

"Do you know something I don't?" I asked.

"Your people are still newcomers, Shepard. The galaxy can be a very dangerous place."

I felt a brief flash of anger at his assumptions, and I started to close the gap between us without really thinking.. "Trust me, I am aware of its dangers."

Before the situation escalated further, Captain Anderson stepped in. "I think it's about time we told the commander what's really going on, Nihlus."

Nihlus turned to face the screen projecting the peaceful colony. "We're making a covert pick-up on Eden Prime. That's why we needed the stealth systems operational. This is more than a simple shakedown run."

Anderson began making his way towards Nihlus. "A research team on the colony unearthed some kind of beacon during an excavation. A Prothean beacon, Shepard."

I was taken aback a little. "This is huge." I said, stating the obvious. "The last time we discovered working Prothean tech, it advanced humans ahead by hundreds of years."

Nihlus stepped closer. "So then you understand this goes beyond mere human interests then. This discovery could affect every species in council space."

"What's the task?" I finally asked.

Anderson moved to the console and brought up a map of the dig site. "You'll insert and extract the beacon and bring it back here, so it can be transported back to the citadel for further research. Eden Prime simply doesn't have the resources to research or secure the beacon there."

"Sounds simple enough." I said.

Anderson folded his arms and faced me. "That's not the only reason Nihlus is here though." He began. "He's here to evaluate you. You're being considered for Spectre candidacy."

That one nearly knocked me on the floor. There had never been a human Spectre, and to my knowledge, humanity's role in council politics had been relatively small.

"The Alliance has been pushing for this for a while now." Anderson explained. "We want a bigger voice with the council, and having a human Spectre will show truly, just how far we've come."

I was having trouble forming words. "Who put my name forward?" It was a legitimate question, but I had assumed it was either Anderson himself, or Earth Ambassador Udina.

Nihlus stepped forward. "I did." He said casually. "You've displayed your exceptional skill and leadership abilities again and again. You're fit, and of the right age. I see the potential in your species, and in you. I don't care that you're human, Shepard. I care that you can do the job."

"This will be the first of several missions that Nihlus will accompany you on." Anderson stated. "Think of it as a mentorship, as well as a constant evaluation of your skills and attitude."

"That's not very comforting, sir."

He let out a low laugh. "Don't worry, Shepard. Just treat this like every other assignment you've been on and you'll be fine."

* * *

**A/N: **_It's really going to be a challenge now, trying to play the game and write it down. Hopefully updates will come at least once a week. Work is still busy but Christmas leave starts soon._

_Please continue to read and review! Big thanks goes out to everyone who has left one so far! Please keep telling me what you think, or ways to improve. _

_Cheers!_


	12. In the Garden of Eden Prime

"Sir!" Joker's voice came loudly over the comm. "You need to see this. Emergency transmission from Eden Prime."

Anderson immediately brought up the message on the console. Explosions, gunfire, Marines running in all different directions shouting and taking commands. The images were fuzzy with static and shaky as the officer ran and scrambled for cover, eventually taking shelter near a tree.

"We are under attack! Taking heavy casualties! I say again, heavy casualties! We need evac!" Another explosion rocked the camera and his scream was cut short. Another Marine in white armour, female, took up the comm link.

"They came out of nowhere! We need evac!" The gunfire stopped and the vid comm shifted to show the stunned and shocked looks on the faces of the ten or twelve Marines who had survived. The view then shifted to the sky where, what looked like a giant hand, descended from the sky, surrounded by electricity, and emitted a low, incredibly loud, pulsing howl.

The comm went dark.

"Joker, reverse and hold at 38.5." Anderson said, calmly.

There it was again, that giant synthetic hand in the sky. Like the hand of God. We all just stared at it, silent. "Joker, take us in fast and quiet. This mission just got a lot more complicated."

Famous last words.

"A small strike team can move quickly without drawing attention." Nihlus said. "It's our best chance at securing the beacon."

"Right." Anderson turned to face me. "Shepard, tell Alenko and Jenkins to suit up. You're going in and leading the strike force. Nihlus will scout ahead."

Jenkins was absolutely ecstatic that he would be part of my ground team, and Kaiden, an excellent combat officer, was well prepared as always.

Before the _Normandy_ I never had the opportunity to work much with a biotic, and I was eager to see what his abilities brought to the table.

As the _Normandy_ approached the LZ, Nihlus readied his weapon and gave me a nod, signaling that he would be taking this one alone. While Marines find strength in numbers, Spectres prefer to take a lone wolf approach to most situations. I was fine with having Nihlus scout ahead by himself. It took a little of the pressure off, and allowed me to focus on my task.

The _Normandy _only touched solid ground when it really needed to, so our insertion was via parachute. As crazy as it sounds, despite the danger, every time I jumped out of a shuttle or a ship, I always had a giant grin on my face. Once the brakechute opened and released, we fell the extra fifty feet or so with jet assistance and landed, all three of us in one piece, on Eden Prime.

I was instantly overwhelmed with that unmistakable odour of burning flesh, feces, smoke, and blood that made up the stench of death. Charred bodies of both Marines and civilians, unrecognizable in their current form, littered the earth.

"This place was hit hard." Nihlus broke through the comm. "Hundreds of casualties. This force is thorough and professional. Definitely not pirate or mercenary. I'm continuing on ahead."

"Roger. Keep us advised as you approach the beacon. Shepard, out." I gave Jenkins and Kaiden a quick check over to make sure their equipment wasn't damaged, and set out with Jenkins as lead scout.

Jenkins was doing his best to cover the shock of seeing his home completely on fire. I knew what must have been running through his mind.

"What happened here…" He whispered as he made his way past a charred corpse.

"We're going to find out, Jenkins. Stay focused." I assured him.

As we moved around into a large defile, three geth security drones ambushed us. Kaiden and I both dove for cover while Jenkins took a knee and fired in return. The geth drones fired on him simultaneously, and he was instantly killed.

No matter what you do or how hard you try, you never get used to the feeling of losing someone under your command. I pushed the emotion to the back of my mind and focused my energy on the drones. Kaiden and I made short work of them and we rushed over to provide Jenkins with first aid. He wasn't breathing.

"Joker this is Shepard. Jenkins is VSA, we need pick up for him at earliest opportunity. Sending coordinates now."

"Roger, Commander. Receiving coordinates and vital signs absent…"

I looked at Kaiden who was also having a bit of a hard time. Jenkins was his second in command. "We'll give him a proper burial when it's over." I promised. He nodded and we soldiered on.

We continued to bound forward in leapfrog movement, destroying several more drones along the way. I couldn't help but notice how beautiful Eden Prime truly was. Huge trees dotted the sprawling landscape, virtually untouched by human settlement. If it wasn't for the sickly orange glow in the sky and the smell of burning flesh in the air, I might have enjoyed it.

Kaiden and I came to a large open field, where a lone Marine was sprinting in a zig zag pattern away from three pursuing drones. She dove behind a boulder and popped up in an instant, placing three precisely aimed shots into the drones, effectively destroying them. Kaiden and I were about to move to her when she motioned for us to stay back. When two geth marched into the field carrying a terribly frightened human, and a strange looking tripod, we heeded her advice.

I watched in complete horror as the geth placed the tripod on the ground, and forced the shaking human on his back on top of the device. One of them triggered the mechanism, and the tripod shot a huge, metallic rod roughly seven feet high, right through the man's chest. It raised him to the top, and his blood slowly ran down.

I had seen enough, and Kaiden and I rushed forward, guns on full auto, and took out the geth patrol. Geth. Actual geth beyond the Veil. This was unheard of.

"Thanks, Commander." The woman was tired, and panting. "Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212. I didn't think I would get through that one on my own."

Williams. I recognized the name, but not the face. Of course, I knew of General Williams, the man who surrendered the garrison at Shanxi to the Turians during the First Contact War, and became the first man to ever surrender to an alien force. I wondered if there was a connection.

"You hurt, Williams?" I asked.

"No Sir, just a few bruises. Nothing I can't handle. The others though…"

"How many?" Kaiden stepped closer.

"All of them." She replied quietly. "We were doing patrols around the perimeter when the attack hit us. We didn't have a chance." She bowed her head. "They're gone. All of them. My whole squad."

I knew her loss, and the guilt she was surely experiencing. Losing a soldier under your command is one of the worst feelings in the world, and you never quite get over it.

"This isn't your fault." I assured her. "You were ambushed, there was nothing you could have done."

"Maybe." She replied. Maybe is a dangerous line of thinking for any leader experiencing survivors guilt. I would be sure to address her loss later, for now; I had to get to the beacon.

"The geth haven't been seen outside the Veil in centuries. What the hell are they doing here?" Kaiden asked.

Ashley shook out of her combat daze and turned to Kaiden. "I don't know. They must have come for the beacon. It's just over that ridge. It might still be there." Her switch had flipped on again.

"We could use your help, Williams."

"Aye, aye, Sir." She popped a fresh clip into her rifle and started to walk towards the ridge. "It's time for pay back."

We made our way over the ridge and into the dig site where we faced several more geth. I quickly discovered Ashley Williams' proficiency with an M7 Lancer assault rifle was more than above standard. She was an exceptional warrior.

The place was dotted with more of those strange spikes, but no beacon.

"They must have moved it." Ashley offered. "There's a research camp just up the hill. Maybe we'll find it there."

Kaiden was examining one of the spikes. "What the hell are these things?"

"Not sure." Ashley answered. "I've never seen anything like them."

"Alright." I interrupted. "We're wasting time. Let's head up to the camp. Hopefully someone survived this massacre." I brought up my comm. "Nihlus, this is Shepard. I've reached the dig site and no sign of the beacon. Continuing to the research camp to look for intel and survivors."

"Roger." He responded immediately. "There's a spaceport I'd like to check out. I'll wait for you there."

We reached the camp and discovered more of the same destruction and devastation lying before us with one, horrifying exception. Three spikes, later nicknamed 'dragon's teeth', each held a glowing, mangled, completely disfigured human-like corpse impaled on it. As we approached, the spikes suddenly released some kind of air brake, and dropped the bodies to the ground with a sharp electrical pulse. The metallic, wiry creatures then got to their feet, and charged us.

Kaiden let loose a biotic lift that threw all three husks into the air, and Ashley put a bullet between each of their white, glowing eyes.

I wasn't sure why the geth did this to their captives. It seemed like a lot of effort for a small result, though I couldn't help but admire its effect as a psychological warfare tactic to make soldiers fight their own dead.

I had Kaiden examine the corpses, which were spewing a thick, green liquid and collect a sample to bring back to the _Normandy_ while Ashley secured the perimeter and I took a closer look around.

"Shepard, it's Nihlus. I've reached the spaceport. I'm going to try to get closer to the ship….wait."

Popular culture has attempted to fill in the blanks on how Nihlus Kryik was murdered. I did not witness, but a few seconds after he ended his transmission with me; I heard a single gunshot ring out in the vicinity of the spaceport. I rounded up Kaiden and Ash and we approached the spaceport with caution. A gunfight ensued. I took a spot on some high ground and picked off the geth with some well placed sniper fire while Kaiden and Ash held off the charging husks. The gigantic ship that I had seen in the video transmission earlier was now lifting off the ground. Its shape was completely unique, and I guessed its size had to be near two kilometers long. It was massive, terrifying, and completely awe-inspiring.

I looked through my scope and observed a lifeless, turian body face down and was about to run to it when I heard someone banging on the door of a small, portable office module.

I had Kaiden decrypt the door and we found two very frightened scientists huddling in a corner. My conversation with them revealed nothing new about the situation. A Prothean beacon had been discovered, and then an attack had ensued. However, one scientist, Dr. Manuel, was rambling about the end of the world like a madman.

I have always believed that an abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is completely normal, however, Manuel's words left me feeling nervous.

"No one is saved." He said. "The age of humanity is ended. Soon, only ruin will remain."

His female counterpart chalked up Manuel's ramblings to general instability. "Genius and madness are often two sides of the same coin." She told me. But there was something about the way he talked. He was completely terrified.

"Is it madness to see the future? To see the destruction rushing towards us? To understand there is no escape? No hope? No. I am not mad. I'm the only sane one left."

I left them feeling a little more nervous than I would have liked, and made my way towards Nihlus, who way lying facedown in a pool of dark blood.

Ash took watch while Kaiden and I rolled Nihlus onto his back. "Sir. Look at the exit wound through his eye. He was shot in the back of his head."

"Not many people can get the jump on a Spectre." I said.

Kaiden and I both jumped with our weapons on the ready as a nearby crate fell to the ground, and a shaking human sprung out with his hands in the air. My finger was halfway down on the trigger.

"Wait! Don't shoot!" He cried. "I- I saw who killed your friend."

I lowered my weapon and encouraged Kaiden to do the same. "Start talking."

"It was another turian. Your friend knew him. Called him…Saren…I think. They were talking and your friend seemed to relax a little. Then the other one shot him."

"You're sure about this?" Kaiden inquired.

"Yes. I'm just lucky he didn't find me."

"What did he look like? This 'other' turian." I asked.

"He was big." The man answered. "Really big. Grey. Scary looking."

"That's a big help." Kaiden muttered.

"At least we have a name." I said. "What about the beacon?"

"It's over at the other platform, that guy Saren jumped on the train right after he killed your friend." His speech was getting quicker, his pitch higher, and his eyes were wide. He was starting to go into shock.

"Listen, I need you to calm down. What else can you tell me about the attack. Do you know anything about that ship?" I asked, trying to calm him down.

"It was massive. The whole sky went dark as it came down." His voice got lower. "And- and it was making this noise. This- this sound that bored right into your brain. It made it hard to think."

"Alright." I said. "Stay here until the all clear is given. Alliance personel will be along shortly to evacuate you." I gave him some water, and had Ash escort him to where the scientists were hiding. Saren was only minutes ahead of us, but it was clear he and I shared a similar goal of recovering the beacon.

I closed Nihlus' eyes, and started moving. We fought our way to the train controls using standard fire and movement. One placing covering fire while two moved up, and took out the geth with relative ease. When we arrived at the platform, we were immediately bombarded with fire from all sides, and forced to dive for cover. My body slammed into an enormous demolition charge placed next to a fuel silo, and I could have sworn my heart completely stopped.

"Christ! That thing is huge!" Kaiden yelled, while throwing down fire over head. "Looks like they want to destroy the evidence!"

"Can you disable it!?" I called back.

"Shouldn't be an issue, just buy me some time!" he replied. While Ash and I used most of our ammo firing at the surrounding geth, Kaiden used his expert technical skills and disabled the bomb, that was most likely intended to destroy the train station, the space port, and the nearby fuel plant which would have effectively made Eden Prime a crater.

The platform was extremely well defended and I knew we were drawing closer to the beacon by the sheer number and type of geth raining fire down on our heads. An old adage (which apparently dates back to World War I and refers to incoming artillery) states, "You don't hear the one that gets you." When an explosion is close enough to slam your body with a powerful concussion, you do not hear the sound and your ears do not ring afterward.

A rocket hit no more than three to five feet in front of me. I saw the fireball but did not feel the concussion, nor did I hear the sound. I felt a hard punch in my chest, just underneath my left shoulder, and was knocked hard on the ground. I didn't hear the shot, and my ears still weren't ringing. My body was experiencing two simultaneous overwhelming stimuli: the sound of the gun, and the feel of the bullet hitting. At first I didn't feel any pain. Then, everything seemed to go into slow motion, as undoubtedly, a large amount of adrenaline was released from my adrenal medulla, causing my central nervous system synapses to fire faster–like a high-speed camera, producing a slow motion effect. I remember being dragged behind cover by Ashley Williams, who quickly applied medi-gel, checked my vitals and hardsuit status, and snapped me back to reality.

"You're alright! Barely penetrated!" She said. It had suddenly become very quiet and I figured the battle had been won. "The beacon's just up ahead!" She grabbed my hand and pulled me up and I walked forward. It didn't look like much. It was a long, skinny, barely remarkable structure with a faint green light running its length. I was having a hard time fathoming how it was worth so many lives.

"Normandy, the beacon is secure. Requesting immediate pick up. Sending coordinates."

"Receiving coordinates. ETA One Five mikes." Joker replied.

"Roger. Standing by." I ended the transmission as Kaiden approached me. I could see Ash out the of the corner of my eye, studying the beacon with an intense curiosity.

"She says it's different." He stated. "That it wasn't glowing like that when they unearthed it. She thinks something might have activated it."

"Right. Just don't touch it." Just as I said that, I noticed Ash slip and fall, and _slide_ towards the beacon, like she was being dragged. I pushed Kaiden out of the way and ran towards her, picked her up and literally threw her away from the beacon.

I felt my lungs begin to squeeze, and my breaths were agonizingly painful and terribly short. Every breath was a knife turning in my lungs. My head suddenly began to throb, like I had been hit with a sledgehammer and then, I began to loose my vision–like white-out erasing my visual field. I lost my ability to see temporarily, and the outside world became a distant blur. I was bombarded with a series of unidentifiable images. I remember smelling death, seeing death, and feeling very, very afraid.

There was a sound that was like a screeching in my brain. I saw a city, people running, people dying, and then, darkness.

* * *

**A/N: **_Well, let me know what you think about that. I think for future chapters, I'm going to need more of an outline. This whole 'flying off the seat of my pants' thing is just not going to hack it._

_Please let me know what you think! And a big thanks to those who have reviewed! Cheers._


	13. Politicking

I woke up fifteen hours later in the med bay with a throbbing headache and quite a few questions. Doctor Karin Chakwas calmly walked over to me, took my vitals, gave me a drink of water, and (like she always did whenever I was knocked out cold) felt my forehead with the back of her hand.

Karin Chakwas enlisted in the Alliance shortly after graduating from medical school, seeking "exotic adventure", though like the rest of us, she quickly realized that military life was not as romantic as she had imagined it to be. Though she sometimes considered starting her own private practice, or going to work at a medical center on one of the colonies, she felt there was "something special about working on soldiers", and believed she would be abandoning them if she did not stay. I was certainly glad she stayed. Where Anderson was much like a father to me, after only three short years under her care, I considered Karin as my adoptive mother, if only because she was constantly telling me I was 'fine' and to 'stop complaining.'

An extraordinary woman, Karin Chakwas was and incredibly intelligent, hard working, and caring individual. Though she technically outranked me (surgeons are immediately promoted to the rank of Major), she always stood by my decisions, whether good or bad, and stayed true to her own beliefs. Despite her name being an anagram for 'hacksaw', I always knew my unconscious body was in excellent hands.

She explained that Ash and Kaiden dragged me back to the ship after the beacon had literally exploded, and while I was physically fine, she had observed abnormal beta waves in my brain activity, and rapid eye movement that was indicative of heavy dreaming. While I didn't really remember dreaming, I did remember the images that the beacon had shown me. Death. Destruction. But nothing abundantly clear. She gave me some standard issued painkillers, one day of bed rest (which I didn't take) and left me with Anderson.

Once he prodded me about my condition, he began debriefing me immediately. "Things look bad. Nihlus is dead, the beacon is destroyed and the geth are invading. The council is going to want answers." He stated bluntly.

"Of course it sounds bad if you say it all at once." I said, but I also had some questions of my own. "What happened to Jenkins…the squad?"

He shook his head at the mention of Jenkins' name. "Jenkins was killed, instantly. Alenko and Williams are fine. I've debriefed them already, but you should go speak to them yourself. They've been through a lot."

I also suspected I owed them a drink for dragging my unconscious body back to the ship. I am not a light man, and heavy armour compounds things to the point where it is a physical requirement in the Alliance Marines to be able to carry _at the very least _one's own weight.

Ashley Williams had been made an official member of the _Normandy's _crew and I made a mental note to interview her as soon as time warranted. It has always been important to me to know the ones I work with, if only so that I am better able to lead them.

"What the hell happened down there?" He asked.

I thought hard, tying to conjure up the vision again. It made my headache worse. "Just before I lost consciousness, I had some kind of…vision. I saw synthetics, slaughtering people. Butchering them."

"And Nihlus?"

"Murdered. By a turian named Saren." I saw Anderson's expression change the second I mentioned the name.

"Saren's a Spectre, one of the best, a living legend. But if he's working with the geth, it means he's gone rogue. A rogue Spectre's trouble. Saren's dangerous, and he hates humans."

Anderson began pacing and I jumped off the stretcher to catch up. "So what's our next step?"

"We go to the council." He said immediately. "Expose Saren, and try to figure out what the hell he wanted with the beacon. We also need to find out if Saren is working with the geth, or worse, if the geth are working for him. There are a lot of questions that need to be answered here, and if what you're telling me is true, this affects more than just humanity."

"What do we tell them? That I had a bad dream?"

"We tell them the truth and hope they believe it. But Saren is one of their own, one of their best."

Anderson had always taught me that _hope_ was not a COA (Course of Action). When making a plan, it's always necessary to have something solid in mind, rather than rely on something as vague as hope. Though, in this case, we really didn't have a choice. We would just have to trust that the council would at least listen.

Anderson began making his way to the door. "I've set a course for the citadel, we should be there by tomorrow morning. I expect you, Williams and Alenko to be there with your dress blues on and in Udina's office ready to explain your very detailed, thorough report that will be on my desk by this evening. Then we'll hold Jenkins' memorial at the embassy." His expression softened a little. "I've already arranged for an assisting officer to accompany his body back to Eden Prime once we reach the citadel. His family survived the invasion, though I suspect he won't be the only one they'll be burying." He gave me a nod as he left and I took a few more minutes to compose myself before heading out the door.

I had a million and one things to do before the morning but my first priority was food. I made my way to the mess, grabbed a power bar and a cup of coffee and sat down across from Ashley Williams who looked very eager to speak with me. I was also eager to speak with her. The circumstances surrounding our first meet had not allowed for proper introductions, so to speak, as the first priority in any engagement is to first win the firefight.

When I first met Ashley, I knew I was meeting someone who never gave up. Ashley fought like hell on Eden Prime. She lost her company, expected no help, yet there she was, fighting an invasion all by herself. She was stubborn as a mule.

Born on April 14th, 2158 on the colony world Sirona in the 61 Ursae Majoris system, Ashley Madeline Williams was from a large family that included a long line of Alliance soldiers. Her father was an enlisted man and she was the oldest of four daughters in the family, followed by Abby, Lynn, and Sarah. Despite his hard work and dedication, Ashley's father never rose above the rank of Serviceman third class, a fact, I learned, she was deeply bitter about. She was young, just twenty-five and already a Chief Gunnery Sergeant. I suspected an invisible hand was also guiding her career.

A brief note concerning gender: War has often been a sexist environment, but death is an equal opportunity employer. Women have almost always fought side by side with men, and there has not been any evidence they are significantly worse at killing people. Ashley was incredibly skilled in this respect. Extremely fit, competent, and well respected, Ashley was a soldier through and through, and I was always confident fighting beside her.

We talked about growing up on colonial worlds, Alliance training, and even a little literature before the conversation shifted towards more a morose topic. She was uncomfortable filling Jenkins' shoes and blamed herself for not being more alert during the geth attack.

"I'm used to seeing friends die." She told me, "But my whole squad…"

I told her she had nothing to do with Jenkins' death, and she wasn't the one to blame for the loss of her squad. The geth were. Plain and simple. She had survived and she would make their sacrifice worthwhile. But of course, that's all easier said than done. I knew that Ashley would replay the events in her head over and over again, trying to pinpoint the moments where she could have affected a different outcome. Her Well of Fortitude had taken a significant hit with the loss of her soldiers, and now that she was under my command, it was up to me to try and fill it back up. Again, easier said than done.

Soldiers are used to death. We sign a contract giving the Alliance 'unlimited liability'. It is the only profession where you can lawfully be put into harms way, or where you can order others into it knowing there is a risk of injury or death. I knew that when my time eventually came, I considered it to be an honour to be buried beneath the Alliance flag. When a friend or a comrade gives their life, and pays the ultimate sacrifice, we mourn, but we don't stop. Life carries on. The mission carries on. And we carry our friends in our hearts.

I left her to prep for the citadel and made my way towards Kaidan. He was already working on his report and was happy to see me walking around conscious and coherent. He was quick to remind me about the drink I owed him for "carrying [my] heavy carcass all the way to the ship."

Kaidan was born in 2151 in Vancouver, Canada, into a family already familiar with space: his father served in the Alliance military. After his mother was downwind of a transport crash in Singapore, Kaidan was exposed in utero to element zero and beat the odds, gaining biotic potential instead of terminal brain cancer.

Like most children exposed to eezo, Kaidan attended BAaT (Biotic Acclimation and Temperance Training) conducted at Gagarin Station. As Kaidan told me, "a bunch of guys in suits show up at your door after school, and next thing you know, you're out on Jump Zero." His confrontation with a turian instructor was well documented, however, his career was unaffected by it.

He enlisted in 2173 and refused further biotic training or an implant retrofit, and worked his way up to Lieutenant, gaining several special commendations in the process despite the health problems he suffered with his L2 implants. He experienced severe migraines but he was usually able to predict them far enough in advance that he could let either Anderson or myself know. More often than not, Kaidan would deploy despite a migraine, as a testament to his strong will, and equally stubborn nature. The _Normandy _was a ship full of mules.

While Ashley could best most at the fine art of hand-to-hand physical combat, and completely decimate everyone she met in verbal sparring matches, Kaidan was the type to rip a person to shreds with his biotics, and carefully apply gel to his hair afterwards.

I remember standing on the bridge watching as the _Normandy _approached the Citadel. I'd never seen anything like it before, so few humans had. I only knew what I had learned in school. The Protheans supposedly constructed it and the asari were the first to discover it. Somehow, it was completely habitable and fully functional upon discovery, and centrally located at the junction of many of the major mass relays. It had quickly become the epicenter of galactic activity, and the command center of all galactic politics. Humans quickly termed the station 'Citadel' as the word derives from the same Latin root as the word "city", _civis_, meaning citizen. In our language, citadel describes a fortress protecting a town. We had no idea of the irony at the time.

Anderson was anxious to meet with Earth Ambassador Donnel Udina and attempt to expose Saren as a rogue Spectre, and have his status revoked. I quickly learned that politics was far more ruthless than combat. I watched from the sidelines as Udina first politely brought the subject to light, then became increasingly more agitated as the council continually failed to listen to his pleas. In the end, the council agreed to hear the findings of a long, drawn out C-Sec investigation into the highly guarded affairs of one of its top Spectre agents.

We all knew it was over before it started.

To this point I had no ill feelings against Donnel Udina. He struck me as a strong-minded, hard working individual who was determined to advance human interests wherever possible. He was extremely mistrustful of me, and I of him; and he required absolute, solid, irrefutable proof of anything before acting, a trait that was often in direct contradiction of my goals. He was afraid to rock the boat, and I was ready to sink it.

To my credit, I actually waited a full twenty-four hours before becoming impatient and beginning my own investigation into Saren's affairs. I got absolutely nowhere and two days later we were summoned to the council chambers to hear the final ruling.

I walked up the hundred or so steps to the Petitioner's Stage, designed to impress the power and authority of the council to those who stood upon it. All three councilors were there, as well as several high ranking C-Sec officers, and even Saren himself. My heart beat like a drum as I stood there and watched him watching me.

"The geth attack is a matter of some concern. But there is nothing to indicate Saren was involved in any way." Said asari councilor Tevos. My eyes went wide with bewilderment.

Sparatus stood tall, stoic, as always and added, somewhat proud, "The investigation by Citadel Security turned up no evidence to support your charge of treason."

"An eye witness saw Saren _murder _Nihlus!" Udina barked.

"One terrified dock worker is hardly an accurate witness." Said salarian councilor Valern.

"I resent these accusations. Nihlus was a fellow Spectre." Saren turned to look at me. "And a friend."

"Just let you catch him off guard." Replied Anderson.

"Captain Anderson." Saren seemed somewhat amused. "You always seem to be involved when humanity makes false charges against me." He looked at me again and I straightened my stance. "And this must be your protégé, Commander Shepard. The one who let the beacon get destroyed."

He was trying to provoke me into an irrational response, and I'll admit, it was working. "Those reports were classified." I said, gritting my teeth.

"Please." He scoffed. "I've read them, and I must say, they're devoid of any real evidence to support your claims. I had nothing to do with the beacon or Nihlus. Shift the blame to cover your own failures. Just like Captain Anderson. He taught you well. But what can you expect, from a human."

"The lowest form of argument is insult, Saren. Even humans know that." I replied. I hid the fact that I was literally shaking with anger in my dress blues.

He narrowed his eyes. "Your species needs to learn its place, Shepard. You're not ready to join the Council. You're not ready to join the Spectres."

"He has no right to say that!" Udina was yelling now. "That's not his decision!"

"Shepard's admission into the Spectres is not the purpose of this meeting." Tevos calmly stated.

"You're right." Saren replied. "This meeting has no purpose. The humans are wasting your time. And mine."

"There's still one outstanding issue." Anderson stated, trying to shift the topic back to the geth. "Commander Shepard's vision. It might have been triggered by the beacon."

"Are we allowing _dreams_ into evidence now? Saren laughed. "How can I defend my innocence against this kind of testimony?"

"I agree." Said Sparatus. "Our judgment must be based on facts and evidence, not wild imaginings and reckless speculation."

"In light of this testimony, the council has found no evidence of any connection between Saren and the geth." Tevos coolly stated.

"What!?" Udina yelled, shocked. "You didn't even deliberate! This is an outrage!"

"Ambassador, your petition to have Saren disbarred from the Spectres is denied."

There was nothing more we could do. We all stood there, silent in our defeat, and contemplated what to do next. Nothing immediately came to mind as I listened to Udina blame Anderson's 'history' with Saren ruining our case. Udina ordered him to remove himself from the situation and gave me the green light to unofficially investigate. Problem was, I had already tried that.

I was descending the massive steps when I was intercepted by a large turian in a C-Sec uniform. "Commander Shepard? Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec Investigations. I think you and I have a common goal."

"That so?" I replied, a little skeptical.

"I was in charge of the investigation into Saren before I was shut down. Something isn't right. But I have a lead." He said. "If you're willing, I think we might be able to prove Saren was involved in the attack on Eden Prime."

"Willing to do what?" I asked.

"Willing to go looking for a bit of trouble."

* * *

**A/N:**_ Alright. Chapter 12 was not my best work and I've since realized my strength lies in narrative rather than dialogue, but I'm still going to be working on it. While the memoirs is supposed to be more reflective than anything, I'd still like to keep you, my lovely readers, somewhat intrigued. Bioware owns all, and so on._

_I hope to update more often during the Christmas break, but we'll see. _

_Thanks to all those who have posted reviews thus far! Your opinions and criticisms matter, however I ask you to PM me if you feel like throwing some tomatoes. _

_Cheers and happy holidays!_


	14. Now Recruiting

"Oh, I get it. It's good cop bad cop." Harkin scoffed.

"If you like." said Garrus. "But as you can see, we're a bit short staffed here, so if I give you a cigarette would you mind punching yourself in the face?"

Sitting in one of the dark private rooms of Cora's Den, I watched as Garrus Vakarian put the screws to Roger Harkin, one of the first human C-Sec officers and 'a disgrace to the species' according to Anderson. I couldn't help but agree. Harkin was as drunk as he was dishonest, and known for roughing up suspects, taking bribes, and abusing drugs an alcohol. The official reason for his suspension had been for drinking on the job; however, Garrus informed me that he'd been removed because he had failed report a possible shooting down in the Wards.

"Normally," Garrus had explained, "A shooting in the Wards is run of the mill kind of stuff. But because this is Harkin, and because he was _trying _to hide it…I know there's more to it."

So I stood in the corner in my 'appropriate civilian attire', sidearm carefully concealed under my leather jacket, as Garrus continued his questioning.

"Fuck you, Garrus."

"Commander Shepard, would you mind closing the curtains to our little cubby hole here?"

"Not at all." I replied.

"Commander?" Harkin's tone conveyed significantly less confidence. "Anderson's crew?"

"Don't worry about him." Garrus withdrew his stun gun and pressed it into Harkins groin. "Worry about me. No cameras in this room. Music's pretty loud. Maybe you're just getting a really rough dance."

"Fuckin hypocrite."

Garrus sighed, withdrew the gun and turned to me. "I'm done with this, Commander, you can take him now."

I didn't let my face display the sudden confusion followed by the sudden realization of Garrus' strategy. He was playing Harkin like a little violin.

"Take me? Take me where?"

"I don't know, Harkin. He's on council business. He doesn't need to tell me. Or you for that matter. If you give us the information we're looking for, we'll be on our merry little way."

"Alright, alright. I'll tell you whatever you want to know." Harkin said, a little panicked now.

"Really?" said Garrus. "What's the orbital velocity of the second moon of Palaven?"

"What?"

"Oh, you'd like something simpler?" Garrus lowered his voice and moved closer to Harkin. "Fine. Which clinic did the Quarian go to? And Spirits save you if you lie to me again."

"Upper Wards. Doctor Michel. Christ, Garrus I gave you what you want, now let me rot in peace!"

Like most turians born on Palaven, Garrus Vakarina had started his military training at age fifteen, but later decided to follow in his father's footsteps and become a C-Sec officer. He shared in my disappointment with the council, and my belief that sometimes one needed to step on a few toes to do the right thing.

However, pissing on the proverbial electric fence has consequences and can be a dangerous way to think. Garrus often became upset when rules and regulations limited his ability to do his job of _applying the rules and regulations._ Such is the way of bureaucracy. Red tape can sometimes kill more people than bullets. In the case of Saren, Garrus was facing more of a red wall, and he was determined to get through it.

I found my friendship with Garrus blossomed incredibly easily, like we'd known each other our whole lives and all that was needed was a little catching up. Even now, no matter how much distance or time separates us, we can slip right back to where we last left off, as if it were nothing. Equal parts brother and friend, Garrus could be silent with me in a moment of despair or confusion, could stay with me in an hour of grief and bereavement, could tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with me the reality of our powerlessness. _The antidote for fifty enemies is one friend. _Garrus and his sniper rifle were an antidote for hundreds.

He also taught me how to think like a cop, and less like a soldier. "Marines are all shoot first, shoot later, and get ready for more shooting. No questions in there anywhere." He taught me to watch for the little subtleties in facial movements when questioning multiple species. He caused me to open my eyes to my surroundings and truly take everything in. He gave me a new perspective on things. As a soldier, your enemy is usually clear, and usually on the other side of your weapon. When you're a cop, your enemies are everywhere and you're right in the middle. The whole world is one big grey zone.

The Wards reminded me of the quiet, contained chaos of New York. There I had learned that chaos was usually found in greatest abundance wherever order was being sought. And it always defeats order, because it is better organized.

Neither of us expected the sight we were presented with upon entering Doctor Chloe Michel's office. There she was held up against the wall, gun pressed to her forehead, hand on her throat while a human mercenary spat in her face demanding the same information we were seeking.

"I didn't tell anyone! I swear!" Her words were choked beneath terrified sobs and tears were streaming down her face. Garrus and I quickly drew our weapons.

The merc took notice and grabbed Dr. Michel, using her as a human shield and pointing his weapon directly at Garrus. This was one of those 'I never want to be in this situation' kind of situations. What do you do? Do you shoot him because your life is in danger, or because your friend's life is in danger? Do you consequently endanger the life of his hostage in the process? Do you let him shoot you? Do you let him shoot her? Seconds matter.

Garrus shot him. Right between the eyes. Faster than I could even process the situation. I can't say that I agreed with Garrus' method, though I couldn't argue with his results. I heard Dr. Michel scream and saw her go down with the merc, but before I could go to her, three more men with guns and armour ambushed us.

I felt the air move as a bullet very nearly missed my head and I dove for cover behind a half wall. I planted down some covering fire at random intervals in order to draw their attention towards my position, while Garrus sprinted around the reception area and through the examination room entrance for a flank. About thirty seconds later, I heard a door open, three shots, and then finally quiet.

Garrus rushed over to Dr. Michel's side, and I was relieved to find her shaken, scared, but very much alive, clinging to Garrus while she tried to catch her breath.

"Fist's men." She said, panting. "They came here to shut me up. Keep me from telling Garrus about the quarian. A few days ago, she came in. She'd been shot and she wouldn't tell me who did it. She was on the run."

Garrus led her to a bench and sat her down with a blanket.

"She asked me about the Shadow Broker. She wanted to trade information for a safe place to hide." She brought her small hand to her forehead and swiped away locks of short auburn hair. "So…I put her in contact with Fist. He's an agent for the Shadow Broker."

Garrus looked at me with a tinge of concern in his eyes. "Fist was always an amateur asshole but the bastard decided to go pro on me. He works for Saren now, and the Shadow Broker isn't too happy about it."

While on the Citadel I had actually visited a more reputable information broker in search of information on Saren. Of course, it had been a complete wash. The broker that I had visited though spoke of the Shadow Broker like a creature out of a storybook. Some great, invisible hand that had its fingers everywhere, that knew everything. The quarian we were looking for must have had something that Saren wanted bad enough that he was willing to cross the Shadow Broker to get it. I started to get my hopes up.

"She must have something that proves he's a traitor. Did she mention anything about Saren? Or the geth?" I asked, hoping to get the answer I so desperately needed at this point.

"She did!" Michel replied. "The information she was going to trade. She said it had something to do with the geth."

"If she went to Fist, she's in danger. We've got to move on this, fast." I said.

Garrus took a look around the room. "You know, we aren't the only ones going after Fist. The Shadow Broker hired a krogan bounty hunter named Wrex to take him out."

Tolstoy once said, "The two most powerful warriors are patience and time." Tolstoy never met a Krogan Battlemaster.

Urdnot Wrex, a famed krogan mercenary and bounty hunter, immediately impressed me. Just his size alone was enough to intimidate. However, despite his brutish appearance, Wrex rarely lost his temper. The mere threat of his anger was usually enough to frighten people into giving him what he wanted. When his fury is unleashed, on the other hand, it was a truly terrifying sight.

He didn't speak much. He rarely had to, because when he did decide to speak, his words were often shockingly blunt and very much to the point. And the way in which he delivered his words was enough to get people to listen. There were few scenarios that he had not experienced, so he was rarely ever surprised by a situation.

I said before that there was such a thing as a 'natural soldier' and that most of them end up in the military. The ones that don't, however, usually fall into mercenary work. Like the soldier, the mercenary doesn't _want _to kill people as such, however he has no issues doing so, so long as he can justify it. He is motivated to take part in the hostilities essentially by the desire for private gain. As a result of the assumption that a mercenary is essentially motivated by money, the term _mercenary_ usually carries negative connotations. I always thought of them as people making their way in the world the only way they knew how.

When I approached Wrex I was surprised that he'd heard of my exploits as well, and respected me as a fellow warrior. And when I explained that I was going after Fist (dressed in full battle armour and accompanied by Kaidan and Ash at this point), he was more than willing to lend his expertise.

"My people have a saying," he said. "Seek the enemy of your enemy, and you will find a friend."

"We have a very similar saying." I replied. I knew right then, Wrex and I would get along just fine. Until we found Fist, at least.

When we reached Cora's Den this time around, it was dead quiet. There was no line outside the, no foot traffic anywhere around the place, the bouncer was missing, and the music had died.

"I get the feeling we're walking into an ambush." Kaidan muttered.

"That's because we are." Said Garrus. "He knows we're coming."

Wrex cocked his shotgun, shoved us aside and hacked the door to the club. "Let's not keep Fist waiting, then."

Before I could yell 'stop', the door flew open and we were instantly bombarded with gunfire. There were men behind the bar, on the stage, and in the balcony. It was here I was able to witness Wrex's skilled use of powerful biotics combine with expert knowledge of advanced weaponry. He started blazing his own path through the enemy line with no regard for the rest of us. After nearly two centuries of working alone, working as part of a team did not naturally return to Wrex.

"Kaidan, cover fire! Ash with me, right! Garrus go left find Wrex! Watch for blue on blue!" I called through the comm as fast as I could.

Urban combat is very different from combat in the open at both the operational and tactical level and is exhausting, both mentally and physically. The environment is completely three-dimensional, booby traps and snipers are common, civilians can get caught in the cross fire, and the consumption of ammo is nearly doubled. The chance for friendly fire is also greatly increased, and requires troops to react and correctly select targets almost instinctively. As Ash and I rounded the corner around the stage, I came face to face with Wrex's shotgun and unconsciously tried to knock it out of his hands. All I managed to do was point it towards the ceiling instead of my face.

"Relax, Shepard, I wasn't going to shoot you. All you humans look the same." He let out a low 'ha' sound that I suspected was a laugh.

"In any case," I said, trying to push my anger and frustration for him aside. "Wait for my order next time."

Kaidan came jogging up behind me and we re-balmed our ammunition and stacked beside the door that led to the back offices. On my signal, Kaidan hacked the door and I was second behind Ash to push through.

We quickly took out the two mercs who had obviously been tasked with protecting Fist before the man himself emerged from cowering behind his desk, hands in the air.

Wrex, again unable to contain himself, strode past us, _threw _his desk aside and viciously pinned Fist against the wall.

"Where's the quarian." He said slowly.

Fist was desperately clawing at the hands clenched around his throat. I could see his face turning deeper shades of purple while he attempted to speak. Wrex lifted him off the ground.

"Questioning suspects is usually easier when their windpipes haven't been crushed." Garrus offered.

Wrex breathed out a frustrated sigh and let Fist fall unceremoniously to the floor. I knelt down while he struggled to catch his breath.

"She…isn't here." His voice was hoarse and rough and I knew Wrex had done some serious damage. "She…would only meet with the Shadow Broker...face to face."

Meeting with the Shadow Broker face to face was impossible, as everyone associated with the man, woman, or board of shadowy figures was hired through an agent. Fist had used this quarian's trust and naivety and sent her right into Saren's hands.

"Tell me where this meeting is." I growled.

"Back alley of the markets. She's headed there now." He sobbed. "Please. I don't want to die." I hauled him to his feet and turned to Garrus who was preparing to take him into custody. Fist was a thug, a thief, and if his plan to lead the quarian into Saren's hands worked, he was also a murderer. Nothing would have made me happier than to kill him where he stood, but it wouldn't have been justice.

"We've-"

The deafening blast of Wrex's shotgun, and the feeling of Fist's blood splattering across my face cut off my words. Wrex had shot him point blank in the chest and I watched his body slide against the wall to the floor, leaving a crimson trail as it went.

Ash was the first to train her weapon on Wrex. "Drop the gun, krogan!"

Wrex shouldered his shotgun and removed a piece of Fist's former self from his armour. "The Shadow Broker paid me to kill him. And I don't leave jobs half done." He turned his attention to me, ignoring the other two weapons pointed at his head. "Didn't mean to make a mess of your armour, Shepard."

I rarely raise my voice or lose my cool. As an officer, it's not my job to do so. And I firmly believe that yelling and screaming is not the best way to get a particular point across. In this case it was necessary to assert my authority, without further escalating the situation or provoking Wrex to fight.

"If you want to do this, you do it _my_ way!" I barked "No more lone wolf bullshit, no more mercenary tactics. You follow _my_ lead or we part ways here and now." I hoped Wrex could tell I had reached the end of my patience.

He took a second to process my offer, or threat, and smiled. Wrex's smile was particularly frightening, because it never gave away his true intentions. "I like you, Shepard."

With the situation defused, and the clock running down, Garrus stayed at Cora's to deal with the impending C-Sec investigation while I took Ash, Kaidan and Wrex with me to find the quarian. I knew we'd be getting there late, and I had no intentions on causing another hostage situation.

I quietly signaled for Ash to take a position of overwatch in a shop above the alley while we waited in the shadows.

"She's meeting with a turian." Ash's hushed voice whispered over the comm. "I don't have a clear shot."

"Keep on him, hold fire."

"Wait. She's backing off…contact!"

The quarian had apparently refused to deal with Saren's men. I saw her take out two assassins with an explosion while Ash's shot nearly took the turian's head off. With the threat eliminated, I had the others maintain a perimeter while I approached the now shaken quarian.

"Thanks for the help." She breathed. "Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. Please tell me you're one of the good guys."

I smiled, introduced myself, and escorted her to Udina's office.

* * *

**A/N:** _Wow. So sorry for the delay in updates. Christmas time is a busy time! Please continue to read and review, and of course, have a very happy New Year._


	15. A Symbol, a Tool, a Spectre

Tali had been in all the wrong places at all the right times. Planning on starting her pilgrimage at Illium, she and her crewmates had stopped to investigate geth presence on a remote ice world. She managed to extract a geth data core (a feat few quarians can even accomplish) and stumbled upon a recording linking Saren to the attack on Eden Prime. Saren's men then tried to kill her.

Exercising complete disregard for her own personal safety, Tali tried to hand over the evidence to the local authorities on Illium. There, she faced nothing less than complete prejudice, and discrimination that allowed for her attackers to dock before her, and set up an ambush. Once Tali and crew had made their way through the red tape, they were attacked, and Tali watched a friend die.

At this point, most people would have ditched the evidence and went back home.

Tali and Keenah'Breizh stowed away on a turian transport bound for the citadel. There, she was turned away by C-Sec, denied an audience with the council, and once again attacked by Saren's men. She was shot in her side, Keenah was mortally wounded, and she had managed to kill her attackers. At that point, she went to Doctor Michel, got in contact with Fist and endured one more ambush. All for a ten second recording.

If she were Alliance, I would have given her a medal. But since she was a twenty-two year old quarian, she was met with suspicion, disbelief, and bigotry.

The human faculties of perception, judgment, discriminative feeling, mental activity, and even moral preference, are exercised only in making a choice. He who does anything because it is the custom, makes no choice.

I sat in Udina's office, dirty, sweaty, and covered in Fist's blood, listening to the recording over and over again. Unfortunately, it left us with more questions than answers.

_"Eden Prime was a major victory! The beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the Conduit._"

It was clearly Saren's voice, and Garrus had been able to confirm it through C-Sec investigative voice matching, but there was a second voice, a female voice.

_"And one step closer to the return of the Reapers."_

Reaper. I felt like I'd heard the term before. And while I watched everyone's face contort with confusion at the word, I felt a flash of fear. A feeling of dread, as old and familiar as possible, emerged from deep down inside me.

Reapers were, according to Tali, a race of highly advanced synthetic machines that existed 50,000 years ago and had hunted the Protheans to extinction. The geth revered them, considered them gods, and were searching for the conduit in order to summon their wrath against organic life. None of this seemed new to me. I felt like I'd heard all this before and the questions and disbeliefs of Anderson and Udina were incredibly frustrating.

I spent the next several hours in Udina's office arguing that this ten-second tape was enough to incriminate Saren, and get the council involved. I was exhausted. I needed a shower, a hot meal, and a warm bed, but I stayed there refusing to leave until we had reached some sort of resolution. Garrus, Tali, and Wrex had also asked to stay, and I encouraged their presence while Kaidan and Ash attended to the _Normandy's _maintenance and replenishment routine.

Udina sat at the end of a large conference table, incessantly tapping his ring on the polished wood. "That second voice is going to cause a bit of a problem." He grumbled. "He has an accomplice, or perhaps he's not even in charge."

"It still doesn't change the fact that he's involved." I snapped back. "We need to take this to the council so we can get after him."

"That voice…" Garrus looked up at the ceiling, searching his mind for something. "It's definitely female. Not turian…"

"And how can you be sure of that?" Udina challenged.

Garrus narrowed his gaze. "I know I don't look like much, ambassador, but I've spent a fair amount of time around turian females. I even have a mother…and a sister. Had a girlfriend once too."

Udina's constant mistrust of everyone was causing me to lose my patience, again. "He's right." I said. "The flanging effect isn't there."

Garrus sat back in his chair and continued. "The pitch, tone, and rate suggest maturity. She's confident. Almost dominant. She fully believes in her cause. She's almost reverent." I must admit, I was extremely impressed with Garrus' ability to construct a personality from eight words. "I'd say most likely suspects are either a human female between the age of forty and sixty…" I could see Udina about to go off on another tangent before Garrus cut him off. "Or asari. A matron, or quite possibly a matriarch."

"Are you sure about this?" Asked Anderson.

"No." Garrus shook his head. "Everyone has a distinct voice, different from all others; almost like a fingerprint, one's voice is unique and can act as an identifier. But the recording is too short to get a proper ID, and even then, that kind of evidence is flimsy."

I sighed and rubbed my eyes to keep them from closing involuntarily. "While I agree there's a possibility the voice is human, it seems very unlikely. Saren hates humans."

"Which leaves us with asari." Garrus shifted his posture, lacing his arms on the table and leaning towards me. "Have you ever heard of the Consort, Shepard?"

* * *

The next morning, I woke up clean, fed, but no less exhausted. I started having nightmares after Mindoir, and I understood them as a symptom of post-traumatic stress, but I hadn't had one for many years. I had sort of trained my mind into dreaming of my family, my peaceful family, rather than how I last saw them during the raid.

Nightmares are common among soldiers, and are mostly caused by stress. I used to have very vivid nightmares even during training where I'd find myself without proper kit, unprepared for a situation, late for a timing, or a combination of all three. Every so often I'd have a dream that involved friends who had fallen, or operations that had gone wrong and were lingering in the depths of my mind, but nothing that caused me concern.

The nightmares I started having after I had touched the beacon were different. The images were vivid, but incomprehensible, and at the same time familiar. I'd wake up abruptly, usually shooting out of bed, covered in sweat. I'd calm myself down; tell myself it wasn't real, and go back to sleep. After Eden Prime, I don't think I ever slept for more than three consecutive hours at a time.

I still see the vision sometimes. Though I understand the images better now, they still manage to wake me up. Luckily, Liara is usually holding my hand when I do.

Any lingering feelings of anxiety were almost instantly put to rest upon entering the Consort's salon. The décor, the music, the smell, it was all intended to put one at total ease.

Garrus' position within C-Sec allowed us to bypass the absurdly long waiting list for an appointment, and I alone was escorted to Sha'ira's office. Her office was surprisingly simple, but no less comforting. She sat behind a large glass table, legs grossed, fingers interlocked, allowing me to appreciate what most humans would consider a very evocative floor length dress. A couch and small lounge area was set off in the corner, and a large one way window allowed her to observe the traffic from her high building suite.

Sha'ira was something out of a classic romance. She was beautiful, and effortlessly graceful. Her skin was free of any facial markings, and almost glowed, betraying her centuries of existence. I suddenly realized why her appointment waiting list was four months long. She radiated a sort of refined sensuality that many found irresistible.

In the dramatizations of my life (which I avoid at all costs), many have speculated about what exactly happened between the Consort and myself in the privacy of her office. Let me now dispel any rumors.

She invited me to sit with a simple motion of her hand, and got straight to the point. "Commander Shepard, I've heard much about you. What can I do for you?" As a highly powerful and respected matriarch, I expected no less, and judging by her reputation I knew she could be trusted to be discreet.

I took a breath before I began. "I'm currently investigating a rogue Spectre; Saren Arterius. I've found a recording linking him to the attacks on Eden Prime, however there was a second voice in that recording."

"And you wish me to help you identify that second voice." She said gently.

"I'd like to go to the council with as much information as possible, yes." She understood my motives, and sat back in her chair while I let the recording play. I watched her face for any movement or indication that she recognized the voice. If she did know, she didn't show it.

The recording ended and I waited for her to speak. Enough time passed that I began to think this visit had been a waste of precious time. I saw her eyes drift towards the floor for an instant before her eyes landed on mine.

"The voice on your recording is that of Matriarch Benezia." Her words were almost pained.

"Can you be sure?"

"I have known the T'Soni family for centuries, though I have not spoken to Benezia for some time. She is highly respected and revered among our people as a teacher of religion and philosophy. She is well known. The T'Soni name itself is held in extremely high regard."

"Is there any reason you can think of that would have lead her to work alongside Saren?"

Sha'ira gave me a genuine look of uncertainty. "Her actions do not speak of her true character. I am…surprised by all of this."

At that point, I was only somewhat familiar with asari culture, drawing on what I was taught in high school and through the Alliance. I knew that the family was the basis of asari social structure. They maintain an intricate web of family and friends to call upon and prefer to work with those they know they can trust. I also knew that the wrongdoing of one family member could bring dishonour to the entire family name. For a matriarch of Benezia's stature to soil a name that had apparently been revered for _several_ millennia was almost unfathomable.

"I'm not looking to start a witch hunt." I told her honestly. "I just want to find Saren, and stop him."

"Of course." She smiled. "You should know she has a daughter. Doctor Liara T'Soni. This news will be distressing to her."

"Do you know where I can find her?"

"Unfortunately, I do not. She is a veritable expert in Prothean culture and technology. A scientist, an archeologist. She has accomplished much in her young life. She is…unique." Sha'ira spoke of Liara with a fondness reserved for close friends and family. If I could find Liara, she could give me insight into her mother, and if I could track down her mother, she might lead me to Saren.

"Then perhaps I should find her." I shifted to the edge of my seat indicating I was getting ready to leave. "Thank you, Consort. Your assistance in this matter is greatly appreciated." She gave me a curt nod and a gentle smile before she stood with me as I started making my way to the door. I felt her hand on my shoulder and turned to face her.

"Few people leave my presence without receiving a kind word, at the very least. Let me do so now." My look of apprehension slowly faded into one of acceptance, and I nodded yes. "I see you… your uniform fits as though you were born wearing it. You are a soldier through and through. Proud, solitary… alone, but it gives you strength." She took my face in her hands, and looked at me as if she was trying to solve a puzzle. "I also see the sadness behind your eyes. It tells a story that makes me want to weep. Pain and loss. And…anger."

Sha'ira was known for many things. She provided comfort for some, entertainment and stimulating conversation for others, but she was especially known for the value of her advice. "This is who you are…but it is not who you will become." She smiled softly again and let her hands fall from my face. "Hate is a great burden to bear. You are capable of so much more."

"Okay." I mumbled sleepily as my senses slowly returned to me. I still wish I had been able to conjure up something more eloquent to say.

"Take care of those around you, Commander Shepard. They will return in kind." She kissed me on the cheek and I felt my face flush deep red before I made my way out the door.

I descended the long, white staircase and caught Garrus' eye. He excused himself from the company of an attractive asari acolyte and we made our way for the salon's exit.

Neylina, Sha'ira's personal assistant smiled at the two of us and gave us a courteous bow. "Be well, Commander. You as well, Detective."

"Sa echarista." I replied, trying my very best not to offend her with my pronunciation. Her smile grew and we stepped out into the presidium commons.

"You speak asari? That's impressive," said Garrus. "Not many humans speak it."

"Only a little. I did some jungle warfare training on Niacal. Do you?" I asked with interest.

"Not really," Garrus said with a tone so disarming I knew he was lying. "My asari is pretty much limited to useful phrases like, 'Are these snakes poisonous?' and 'But you look much too young to be a police officer."

We made our way back to Udina's office and prepared to resume where we had left off the previous evening. Having the Consort identify the second voice in the recording was a major step forward, and Udina was confident enough to present our findings to the council. Privately of course.

Anderson, Udina, Tali, Garrus, Wrex and I all sat at an obscenely large conference table across from all three council members as we discussed the implications of the tape.

Councilor Tevos confirmed the inclusion of Matriarch Benezia, and was equally surprised and disturbed as Sha'ira had been.

"Matriarch Benezia is a powerful biotic, and she had many followers. She would make a formidable ally for Saren." She said.

While they all agreed Saren would be stripped of his Spectre status and brought to trial for the destruction of Eden Prime, the council absolutely refused to believe that he was searching for a way to bring back the Reapers.

"Listen to what you're saying." Sparatus spat in his most patronizing voice. "Saren wants to bring back the machines that wiped out all life in the galaxy? Where did the Reapers go? Why did they vanish? How come we've found no trace of their existence?" He rhymed off those questions with such speed and arrogance it made my blood boil.

I was clenching my jaw so hard I'm surprised my teeth didn't shatter. "I tried to warn you about Saren and you ignored me. Tali tried to give you this recording days ago, and you turned her away. Perhaps you should open your minds a little more before you make the same mistake for a third time." I said as calmly as possible. Sparatus glared at me and the tension in the room increased by a few degrees.

Valern interjected before Sparatus could respond "The truth is that we don't know Saren's true purpose. The Reapers are obviously a myth. A legend he is using to bend the geth to his will."

_No_. I felt as if I was slamming my head against the wall. "The beacon showed me a vision. I saw the Reapers destroy all galactic civilization fifty thousand years ago! And if Saren gets that Conduit, it _will _happen again."

Always the first to play the skeptic whenever an idea was raised, Sparatus, when forced to accept the truth of claims he previously dismissed, was always just as dismissive of any recriminations against him or his ideas of the truth, instead shifting the focus back to more pressing issues at hand. Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, diagnosing it incorrectly and applying the wrong remedies. Sparatus, and the other council members adamantly refused and denied the Reaper threat and the topic shifted to finding and capturing Saren.

Udina demanded a fleet be sent, but after some discussion he agreed that sending the Citadel fleet had a potential of provoking an intergalactic war with the Terminus Systems. Humanities colonies would have to make due with the sparse defenses the Alliance could provide.

I listened to the bickering continue for a few more minutes before casually stating that I would bring Saren down myself.

The council took a few minutes to debate among themselves and decided that my idea was their best option. For Udina, it was a perfect situation. A fleet wouldn't be necessary, Saren would be brought down, and humanity would get the credit.

"If that's the case, I want him made a Spectre. You have a vacancy." Udina sat back in his chair with an unmistakable look of confidence on his face.

Despite what popular culture tends to believe, there are no sacred words to be said, no religious undertones or great warrior induction to the ranks of the Specters. My appointment was made after hours and hours of back room political dealings, arguments, and compromises.

I was given immediate access to council resources, which meant personnel, highly classified technology, including weapons and ammunition, armour, and transport. While I still belonged to the Alliance and fell under the rank system, I answered to the council _directly_.

"He'll need a ship." Anderson said quietly. "The _Normandy's_ quick quiet, and you know the crew. It's the perfect ship for a Spectre." He gave me a faint smile. "Treat her well, Commander."

I stared back in disbelief, but the look he gave me in return told me he would explain everything in private.

"Good." Udina interrupted. "Saren's gone. Don't even try to catch him. I suggest you start with this asari, Matriarch Benezia."

"We don't know if she's involved, but she has a daughter, Liara T'Soni." Garrus sat forward in his chair, brought up a projection on the star map in the center of the table and continued. "I did some digging and I found she was given a research grant to explore a dig site on one of the uncharted worlds of the Artemis Tau cluster. Might be a good place to start. See what she knows."

"Do we have a more specific address?" I asked.

"Unfortunately, no." He sighed. "However, your Spectre status should speed up the research process. We could gain access to the grant specifics."

"Speaking of Spectre status and specifics, I'd like to discuss Wrex, Tali and Garrus officially made members of the _Normandy _crew and part of this mission. They have been invaluable thus far." I gave Sparatus my more iron like stare, calling on him to object. He didn't.

"We will make the appropriate arrangements." Councilor Tevos said softly. "So long as you can properly accommodate them."

Dextro crewmembers would complicate things for my chief cook; however, I was willing to stress him out a little more for the sake of our mission.

After the arrangements for my official induction ceremony were made, our marathon of a meeting was finally adjourned. That night, Anderson and I shared a drink together in a small bar just outside of the embassy.

"I'm not the first human Spectre…am I?" I asked quietly.

Anderson sipped his drink and looked back at me. "Actually, you are. I was never a Spectre, that's just an old rumor that won't seem to die. I was being considered for it. I was on a job with Saren actually, and it went…awry."

When I said nothing, he continued.

"We accomplished our mission, but many, many innocent lives were lost. He told the council it was my fault, and it was enough to keep me out. Now that you're an _actual Spectre_ you'll be able to read the details, if you want. But the moral of the story is that I had my chance and it didn't take. The torch is in your hands now." He smiled.

"Don't know if it should be me." I said honestly. I knew what being a Spectre entailed. I had read the privileges and responsibilities cover to cover a dozen times to the point where I had memorized every word, but I don't think it had sank in just how much power I had, and how much responsibility it placed in my hands.

"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power." He was quoting Abraham Lincoln, I knew. "I think I know you well enough by now. You are, by all accounts, a good man, Shepard. Look at you. When I found you back on Earth, you were drinking beer that could pass for piss. Or piss that passed for beer. And look at you now. Glenlivet in your hand. All grown up. " He smiled and raised his glass of scotch, "Remember. Absolute power corrupts absolutely." He clinked my glass and put it to his lips before he finished, "but only if you are corruptible."

Anderson and I had a few moments where we weren't mentor and mentee, we weren't superior and subordinate, we were instead, father and son. It was those moments I enjoyed the most with him.

"You'll make me proud." He said. "You always do."

We finished our drinks and a brief informal handover of command of the _Normandy_ before turning in for the night. The ceremony was arranged for the early afternoon the next day, despite my own protests. The fact was, a public, broadcasted ceremony was good for morale. It was considered a massive step forward for humanity and the Alliance within intergalactic politics and I had to do my part. If that meant standing tall in my dress blues in front of the council, surrounded by media and dignitaries, then I would do it.

Though I've always been uncomfortable with the amount of press and praise heaped upon me, I understood its necessity. More than the Alliance, more than Udina, more than any other human _I_ was humanity's representative, and I could not fail.

It was almost overwhelming. The ceremony was lavish and expensive, but relatively short. I stood on the petitioner's stage, just like in the vids, while the councilors addressed me, 'officially' granting me all the powers and responsibilities of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel.

I was a symbol. An ideal. The embodiment of courage, determination, and self-reliance. I was an instrument of the Council.

Always an instrument. A tool to be used to apprehend or eliminate Saren.

The ceremony concluded with the repetition of "Me káthe mésa" which roughly translates from asari to "by any means."

Following the ceremony, I stopped at Spectre requisitions, ensured all maintenance and replenishment was complete, found bunk space for my three new crewmembers, addressed the entire crew to brief them on the situation, met with my command staff, charted a course for Artemis Tao and disembarked from the Citadel.

I moved my things to my new, private quarters and sat at the small workstation, idly thumbing threw a stack of research grants issued to Doctor Liara T'Soni. _She's been busy,_ I mused as I continued through the stack. The last one caught my eye.

I keyed the intercom. "Pressly."

"Yes, sir." Came the quick response.

"Set a course for Therum."

* * *

**A/N:**_ Now things will get a little more interesting! I'm very excited to write for Liara. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to leave a review or send a message. Your input is helpful and I feel like my dialogue is improving (if only just a little). Please continue to read and review!_

_Cheers_


	16. Ruined

"Look for the one with the Prothean ruins."

David Anderson had been right, as he tended to be, and I began searching through grant requests made by Doctor Liara T'Soni. Most research funding comes from two major sources, corporations (through research and development departments) and government (primarily carried out through universities and specialized government agencies). Liara had tapped them all, or had at least attempted to at some point in her life. I had a small stack of grants set aside on my desk for exploration of the Artemis Tao cluster, but nothing overly specific.

I decided I should look through Liara's research papers. My inbox was instantly overwhelmed with an astronomical amount of data. At that point, Liara had personally authored nine hundred and four _published_ academic articles, and had written twenty-three books on the subject of the Protheans.

Waiting for my console to complete its filtering process, I tried to rub the weariness from my eyes. I had been Captain of the _Normandy _for nearly forty-eight hours and I was already totally exhausted. Command is lonely. No matter what I did, the responsibility I had as a leader always set me apart from those I led. If I ever became stressed, if I ever doubted what I was doing, if I ever needed to be overtly angry or sad, my responsibilities limited the support network I could build myself. I finally, truly understood why a CO had his own quarters on a ship that demanded every single inch be utilized; he needed a place where he could be with himself. His support network.

My console chimed and showed three articles that contained my filter words and there it was, _Digital characterization of silicon-based organism distribution in a carbonate ramp system (Prothean Third Age, Knossos System)_.

In her paper, Liara argued there had once been a massive Prothean city that had thrived on Therum, and she attempted to prove it through the multiple ruins that dotted the landscape and particularly underground. She hypothesized that the planet had been flourishing until an unknown event caused a mass extinction. While there had been evidence of their extinction, there was no evidence of how it had all happened.

I looked through the stack of grants and sure enough there was one that mentioned Therum, and it had been denied. Liara had gone out alone.

I could tell right away that Liara was remarkably intelligent and absolutely passionate about her field. Admittedly, her papers were a bit over my head in terms of scientific knowledge and understanding of the Protheans, but the fact that she could hold my interest as a reader, even while I had no real idea of what she was writing about, spoke volumes about her. In my books at least. I pictured her as a highly respected, sought after expert on Prothean culture and technology, and I was anxious to meet her.

I huddled in the commander's seat of the M35 Mako along with my driver, Private Carlton Tucks, my gunner and Mako 2IC Sergeant Addison Chase, and my newly formed ground team.

The _Normandy_ was designed for reconnaissance, and like most recce driven vessels it was equipped with a ground reconnaissance vehicle as well as a ship to surface shuttle. Normally, ground vehicles work in tandem, mutually supporting one another either by fire or by observation. The size of the _Normandy,_ however, limited the number of vehicles that could be contained in the cargo bay. The Mako was only used when enemy presence was suspected and the shuttle could not be deployed.

Sitting at just over fourteen tons, the Mako was equipped with a 155mm mass accelerator cannon, one 25mm chain gun mounted coaxially and one .50 caliber machine gun pintle mounted on top of the turret. The Mako may not have been deployed to pick a fight, but it was definitely capable of handling one. It seated a crew of nine. Myself in the commander's seat, my driver forward left in the hull, my gunner to my left, and a crew of six humans could be seated comfortably in the back. Through some shuffling and experimenting, we were able to sit a quarian, a turian, a human and a krogan inside the small crew hold.

Wrex had initially insisted on gunning, however after nearly requiring the Jaws of Life to pry him from the cramped gunner's hole, he had reconsidered.

I expected the Mako's firepower would come into use. A routine scan of the planet had revealed a large geth presence centered on a Prothean ruin. I selected a drop zone, a secondary drop zone, and an alternate but it looked as if our primary was free of enemy presence. My plan was to take the Mako as far as it could get us safely, deploy on foot, find Dr. T'Soni, RV with the Mako, and make our way to the extraction point. But no plan survives contact with the enemy.

"We've cleared the mass relay. Engaging drive core. ETA to Therum two five mikes."

It was almost impossible to hear Joker's voice over the sound of the Mako's pre-drop checks.

"Thrusters nominal, values input, ready!" Tucks came over the Mako's intercom as he finished bringing the vehicle to action.

"Roger. Stand by." My stomach was still churning from the jump through the mass relay. Scientifically, I knew motion sickness shouldn't happen. Travel between relays was an instantaneous event. It took no time to occur; therefore, it couldn't possibly have any physical effect on my body. But while I acknowledged that theoretical fact, in practice, I knew it wasn't true.

Maybe the tightness in my gut came from the fact this was my first mission as a Spectre, as commanding officer of the _Normandy, _and we were going into this situation _knowing_ we were severely outnumbered. At least we were going in heavy. Each one of us had custom fitted armour equipped with fully charged kinetic shield barriers, as well as three-quarters visored headgear. We each had a dozen grenades and the Alliance's standard issue Elkoss Combine M-8 Avenger. The ammo clip on each weapon held over four thousand rounds; miniature pellets smaller than a grain of sand. Additionally, Wrex carried his custom made shotgun, as did Tali, and Garrus brought along his M-92 Mantis capable of reaching a target up to eight kilometers.

I carried the M-76 Revenant, which I acquired from Spectre requisitions. This custom-made machine gun featured technology not widely available. Protected against replication by sophisticated Fabrication Rights Management (FRM) technology, and according to Wrex, only the richest and most powerful warlords could afford it. I added a scope and carried the sixteen-pound monstrosity because it held nearly twice the ammo capacity of the Avenger, and packed a significantly more powerful punch.

But if we were going to accomplish this mission, it wasn't going to be because of our equipment. It always came down to two things: training and leadership. I ducked down and made my way through the crew hold, checking their restraints and equipment before we dropped onto the volcanic planet.

"Everyone stay sharp. Dropping in five." Knowing they could hear me over the rumbling of the engines through the radios in their helmets.

I strapped myself into my own seat and watched the screen as the _Normandy's_ cargo hold slowly opened.

"Three. Two. One. DROP!" The Mako was released with a shudder and I was pressed firmly to the back of my seat by the force of the launch. This was my fifty seventh combat drop in a Mako, and I knew there was little I could do to influence the flight or the landing other than to make sure the thrusters were still online. The drop was instrument based, so as long as the correct values were inputted, and my drop zone wasn't in the middle of a volcano, I knew we would be fine.

The Mako creaked and shook and I felt a jolt as the thrusters kicked in, and the ground was no longer hurling towards us at a rate that would turn us into a fine, red, paste. I let my body relax as I anticipated the landing. We hit the ground with a resounding thud and my body tried to lurch out of its restraints. We bounced once, thrusters engaged again, and the Mako had made it safely to Therum. I let myself out of my restraints, got a thumbs up from the crew, and had Chase do a scan of the area while I looked at the map. We were about five kilometers from our objective with no enemy in sight.

"Driver, prepare to advance. Driver, advance."

Therum has an average temperature of 59 degrees Celsius. Where we had been dropped, the temperature was closer to 100 degrees. The ground was scorching hot, the sky was covered by thick, black ash which rained down on us, covering our imagers, and stifling the sunlight. It was what I imagined hell would be like and I was not looking forward to exiting the Mako's controlled environment.

"Getting some strange readings, sir. Like off the damn charts." Sergeant Chase glanced at me wearily as we continued on our course.

"We must be getting close." I said. "Tucks, we're going to adopt a position on the high feature about 500 meters to your front."

When conducting mounted reconnaissance, your best cover is the ground. I avoided open spaces as much as possible, and stuck to the edges of a large mountain range, all while keeping an eye on the changing volcanic situation. We moved slowly up the crest, careful not to expose the hull as I scanned the field below.

That was the first time I had seen a geth armature, accompanied by several rocket troopers.

I felt Tali's hand on my shoulder as she looked at the screen, confirming exactly what we were seeing. "Armatures are usually dropped directly from a Geth Dropship. They only employ them in high risk areas. My guess, the geth are after the same thing we are."

"Then we better get there quick!" I said as I lay the gun onto the armature. "Laze, armature, On?!"

"On! 1600!" Chase shouted back, confirming she had the thing in her sights.

"FIRE!"

"Firing now!"

It takes less than an eighth of a second for the mass accelerator cannon to reach its goal. "Target!" The armature erupted in a burst of electricity and I shifted my attention to the rocket troopers, who were now alerted to our presence.

"Stop! Next target right! Coax, geth, on!"

"On!"

"FIRE!"

"Firing now!"

It went on like this for several minutes, firing, jockeying position, and firing some more until the small threat was fully eliminated. Tali had been right, the geth were simply guarding the entrance to the Prothean ruin where I suspected Liara would be. It didn't seem right that they would leave such a small contingent behind, and the feeling in my gut got a little worse.

Moving another five hundred meters behind a small ridge, I dropped the ramp and dismounted with the ground team. The Mako would cover our movement to the entrance, and once we were inside, would remain in place unless they came under contact. A good five point contingency plan ensured that Sergeant Chase knew exactly what to do under any circumstance. I had also left Kaidan back on the _Normandy_ as commander of the QRF (quick reaction force), on five minutes notice to move via shuttle insertion in case anything went horribly wrong.

Weapons drawn, we moved in arrow formation, passed the bodies of the geth, to the entrance of the ruin. The exterior looked eerily normal. A few dozen crates, a large ramp, and an unprotected research facility that looked abandoned. I wanted to venture inside to look for survivors, but they would have to wait.

Using hand signals, I motioned my team across the deserted research base and up the ramp. The sliding blast doors were featureless and smooth, controlled by a simple security panel on the rail. The fact that they were locked didn't sit well with me.

I motioned for Tali to move forward to hack the door.

It was unbearably hot, and I was already sweating profusely under the weight of my weapons and armour. It was difficult to breath, and it seemed that no matter how much water I took in, it was never enough.

"How are you mammals doing, Shepard? A few more degrees, and I might be uncomfortable." Wrex was smiling as he sensed my discomfort, watching me readjusting my position for better air circulation. Weather is one of the biggest contributing factors to performance, and can be an extreme hindrance. Under Alliance regulations, troops are supposed to exercise a 15/45-minute work-rest ratio in extreme heat. Of course, it was never applied in practice.

"Doing fine, Wrex." I blew a bead of sweat from out of my eyes. It was starting to sting.

"Speak for yourself, skipper. I feel like I'm in hell." Ashely said.

"At least it's a dry heat." Garrus added.

"Watch your arcs." I snapped. "Tali, where are we?"

"Unlocked, Commander."

"Stack left. Prepare to breach."

Tali hit the security panel and the door flew open to reveal…nothing. We walked cautiously through the long corridor towards the elevator and I checked the logbook. Doctor T'Soni had last signed into the facility _three days earlier._

The elevator made a terrible screeching noise as it climbed towards us, and swung in the shaft after coming to a crashing halt.

"If we're getting in that thing, I quit here and now." Garrus said immediately.

"We're getting in that thing." I took the first few steps into the swinging lift, and once I had steadied myself, I jumped. "See?" I tilted my head towards Garrus. "Perfectly safe."

You have to do your best to hide your fears from those who are following you. I always shared in the risks. I had to.

I could swear no one made a move, a sound, or even breathed as the elevator descended into the ruin. It was…enormous. Unexpectedly so. I never imagined it would _actually_ be an entire city underground. It's size would definitely complicate things. I still had no idea where Dr. T'Soni was, or if she was even still there, or even still alive.

Wrex cast a disapproving eye towards his surroundings. "White sterile walls, white sterile noise, white sterile chambers. The Protheans sure knew how to make things homey."

I was still in a sort of awe about the place but I shot Wrex a crooked smile as we continued downward.

"This is sterile even for me." Even beneath her mask, I could see the glow of her eyes get a little smaller as her eyes examined the ruins. "I wonder if-"

Tali was cut off by a loud crunch. We all stopped in place. Then a snap.

And then we were in free fall.

It was another moment where I thought it was all over. I bent down, preparing my knees to brace the impact. I had enough time to process that no one was screaming, or saying anything at all, before the elevator ground to an excruciatingly earsplitting, shrieking halt as the emergency brakes kicked in. I opened my eyes and we had thankfully stopped, not two feet from the ground.

It was a few seconds before any of us were breathing again.

"Alright." I said, more to myself than anyone. "Let's find this scientist." Garrus shot me a look that was absolutely telling. "And take the stairs next time."

"I'm picking up footprints. Mostly geth, but there's a smaller set here that looks organic. Probably our scientist. The geth tracks can't be more than ten or eleven hours old." Garrus said.

"You mean that thing on your face actually does something? I thought it just made you look pretty." Wrex rumbled as we followed Garrus through a narrow passage.

"You hear that, Garrus? Wrex thinks you're pretty." Tali said quietly.

I smiled to myself that my extremely diverse crew was apparently getting along, but we had a job to do and we needed to focus.

"There are geth down here. Spread out into column, five meter spacing."

Garrus stopped and knelt down. "Huh." I signaled for the team to take a knee and took a position beside Garrus. "The tracks…stop. The geth ones, I mean. Like it disappeared."

I instinctively took a wide look around me. I never would have thought to look _up._

Not until I heard Ash's voice full of alarm scream "HOPPER!"

I didn't have time to react before a red eye overloaded my MG. Wrex was firing in all directions causing red/brown earth to rain down on us as two, or maybe three hoppers sprang around the corridor. I switched to my shotgun and tried to line up a shot while yelling to the others to adopt an all around defense. The things never stayed in one place long enough to shoot at.

"AH!" Wrex howled in frustration. "Slippery bastards! See if you can dodge this!" Wrex threw a singularity immediately above us catching two hoppers in the process, allowing Garrus and I to shoot them down with relative ease. Tali and Ash used their collective firepower to bring down the third.

Out of all the geth, I found hoppers had the closest resemblance to organic life. Mostly because of the springy, synthetic substance they were made of that largely resembled organic muscle tissue. Other than that, from a psychological standpoint, geth were extremely easy to kill. Most often, soldiers force themselves to dehumanize their enemy, in order to make killing bearable. With the geth, this process wasn't necessary. Not at that point, at least.

As the dust settled, the initial wave of fatigue hit me. Being closer to the center of the planet, the temperature actually increased the further down the ruin we went. I was running low on water already, and I had brought nearly six liters with me. I had to find Dr. T'Soni.

But first we had to get out of that corridor and out of ambush territory.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" The voice caused me to break into a jog. It was faint, and weak, but echoing through the open space the corridor exited to. Reaching the end, I stopped and looked around, trying to pinpoint it's origin. "I'm trapped. I need help!" My head flew to the right as my ears picked up the direction of the sound.

And there she was.

In the vids, this is where the dashing commander Shepard falls instantly in love with a beautiful asari actress, and their lives are instantly changed forever.

In truth, there was no love at first sight. I honestly wasn't thinking about it. I saw her suspended in some kind of energy field, immobile, clearly distressed and in pain. My only thought was getting her out of that energy field, and getting us all out of that ruin alive.

But I'll never forget the first thing I ever said to her.

"Are you Doctor T'Soni?" What a stupid question. I almost answered it myself. _No, you idiot. She's a geth built to look like the asari scientist you're looking for. _I shook my head and asked another question before she could answer my first. "Are you alright?"

"Listen." Her voice was weak and strained, her tone bordering on panic. "This thing I'm in is a Prothean security device. I've been here for _days._ You need to get me out, alright?"

I took a few steps closer and looked up at her, trying to convey some sense of calm. "I need you to stay calm. I'll find a way to get you out."

She took a few breaths, closed her eyes, and opened them slowly. "There is a control in here that should deactivate this thing. But…you'll need to find a way through the barrier curtain. I'm not sure how you'll do that."

Tali took a step towards me. "Shepard, there's a mining laser down there. Maybe it still works?"

"Take Garrus and check it out. I'll be right behind you."

"Be careful." She said quickly, her eyes snapping wide. "There's a krogan battlemaster moving with the geth. He's been trying to get past the barrier."

"Thanks for the heads up." Ashley stepped forward, her eyes narrowed at the asari. "Commander, how do we know this asari is on the level. Her mother's working with Saren. Can we trust her?" She had said that much too loud, and I could see Liara's face shift from shock to anger in a micro second.

"I am _not_ my mother." She looked directly at me, eyes watering from exhaustion and fury. "I don't even- I don't know why Benezia joined Saren. I do not have anything to do with, nor do I _want_ anything to do with that turian bastard."

I gently grabbed Ash by the arm and pulled her aside. "If she were with Saren, the geth wouldn't be trying to kill her. Make sense?" She nodded in agreement and tried to pull away before I managed to whisper. "If you have an issue with something, you bring it up directly with me, in private."

"Sir." She yanked her arm away and I knew we would need to have a one way chat later.

"Commander!" Garrus was yelling from below. "I think you want to come check this out."

I turned to look at Liara who seemed to be a little weary about my leaving. "Don't go anywhere." And I managed a slight smile.

Heat stress can leave you confused, uncoordinated and feeling violently ill. It was two hundred and seventeen degrees Fahrenheit. After a long enough period of time, it's enough to cook a human inside out. Even with the cooling pads in our armour, I was moving slower, thinking slower, and feeling the beginnings of heat exhaustion. The next step was heat stroke.

"I've already calibrated it. I figured you'd want to check it out first." Garrus stepped back from the mining laser so I could examine the console.

"Can't go around it, can't go through it, looks like our only option is to go under it." His mandibles twitched.

I double checked his targeting, inputted the distance required, had Tali hack the authorization, and the laser hummed to life. A few moments later and the earth had been completely burned away, and we cautiously made our way through our man made path, eventually reaching a large, circular platform.

"Another elevator?" Tali moaned.

"Yeah. This one's only 50,000 years old. What could go wrong?" Ashley chirped as she strolled over to the console and examined the controls. "I suppose it was too much to hope there would be one big red button that said 'up'."

I made my way to the console, punched in the code for the third level, and the elevator lurched up. I didn't even notice the controls were written in Prothean. Or the looks the squad gave me as the elevator climbed.

"Thank the Goddess." Dr. T'Soni breathed as we emerged. "That button over there should release the containment field."

With the field shut down, Liara dropped to the ground with a thump. She was struggling to stand and I rushed over towards her.

Where I was sweating profusely, Liara's skin was bone dry, indicating extreme dehydration. Where I was breathing rapidly and my vitals showed I had a fast but weak pulse, I could feel Liara's heartbeat was strong and alarmingly slow. Clearly starved, stressed, overheated, dehydrated, and panicked, I was surprised she was alive. Another few hours in that stasis field, and she wouldn't have been.

I removed my helmet with the intent on giving her a drink from my built in hydration pack, and I saw her eyes widen further. It was not an attractive first meeting. She was on the verge of dying of heat stroke, and she was further repulsed by having to drink from the same sweaty straw that I had been drinking from.

"Not too much." I cautioned. "You're too dehydrated. Just little sips."

She looked at me like I had six heads and complied. "Thank you…uhm."

"Commander Shepard. John Shepard. Alliance Navy. There're a few more titles after that but first we need to get you out of here. Can you walk?"

"I can try. I- my name is Liara."

I hoisted her to her feet and allowed her to catch her balance.

Now I know I said before that there was literally no sexual or romantic chemistry that occurred during our first meeting. But in retrospect, as a man, I instantly became aware of how impossibly blue her eyes were, her height measured against mine, and how easily she could be carried.

When the ground started to shake and rumble, and dust started filling the air, my weak pulse got just a little stronger.

"What in the actual _fuck_ was that?!" Ashley cursed.

"The mining laser." Liara said feebly. "These ruins are not stable."

"Time to leave!" Wrex bellowed. "Shepard, how the hell do you work this thing?"

I clutched Liara to my side and half ran to the console, punching in a few more digits and bringing the elevator to the top floor, hoping it would lead to a way out of the dig site.

"_Mako,_ this is Shepard!"

"_Mako, _send."

"Roger. Lock in on my signal and move in for a pick up. From there we'll move to the RV. _Normandy _acknowledge."

"Mako, roger. ETA eight mikes."

"_Normandy_ acknowledged."

"Shepard, out."

The elevator stopped suddenly causing us to lose our balance, but I could see an actual light at the end of the tunnel, not five hundred meters away.

But we were obstructed. A krogan battlemaster and a section minus of geth were blocking our path.

"Surrender. Or don't. That would be more fun." The krogan's yellow tinged skin contorted into a threatening smile.

"This place is coming down, we need to get out of here." Ashley yelled as she drew her weapon.

"Exhilarating, isn't it?" The krogan stepped closer and Wrex inched forward. "Thanks for getting rid of those energy fields. Now hand over the doctor."

I looked at Liara, who was now trying to stand on her own. She didn't want the krogan to sense her weakness. "Whatever it is you want, you're not getting it from _me._" She snapped.

I smiled and locked eyes with the krogan. They were blood red. "She'll stay with us, thanks."

The krogan never once raised his voice. "Saren wants her. And he always gets what he wants."

"You always were an idiot, Goro." Wrex drew his shotgun and advanced towards the krogan with purpose. "I'll enjoy finding out just how small your brain really is!"

Wrex fired his shotgun and suddenly we were in a severe contact. Liara instantly threw up a biotic barrier as I threw my body over her and yelled to find cover. Satisfied that she was protected, I turned my attention towards the geth.

_They_ were focused on Wrex who had charged directly at Goro, a second battlemaster with equal biotic power. Before I could yell a single command, I saw a bright flash of light, and a microsecond later was blown back by a loud CRACK of pure energy. I slammed against the wall with another crack and crashed to the floor. I had sharp, intense pain in my back, neck and legs as I tried to stand and regain my footing.

My helmet was cracked and dented so I threw it off. My shoulder was definitely dislocated. Garrus was attempting to stand, as was Ash. Tali was ducking behind a console, overloading the geth reinforcements while Wrex and Goro continued their biotic war. I aimed my MG and held down the trigger on Goro. His shields absorbed most of the impact before he threw me against the wall once again. But I had achieved my goal of distracting him long enough so Wrex could gain the advantage.

Slamming against the wall a second time without a helmet opened my head up, and I felt the blood starting to drip down my back. My MG knocked out of my hands, I stood again, drew my shotgun and went back for more. Again, Goro's shield went down, but this time, he kicked Wrex into three geth troopers before turning his attention to me.

The deafening sound of Garrus' sniper rifle filled the room. The krogan threw up a barrier just in time.

He started charging. I started shooting.

Garrus' rifle fired again.

Goro absorbed the shot and picked up speed.

It was like shooting at a tank with pellet guns.

I was again thrown back by a biotic slam. My head pounding with pain. Goro picking up speed and closing the distance.

Falling earth was raining down with me. I swung my shotgun towards the ceiling with my one good arm, and fired rapidly at the earthen ceiling.

It was a long shot, but after 50,000 years of untouched preservation, that ruin had formed some pretty impressive stalactite.

Goro was now coming at me in a full-blown blood rage, only to be stopped by a formed deposit of mineralized water solutions. The pillar came down with an earsplitting crash and dirt, geth and krogan parts were blown in all directions.

"Next time you're going to do that, warn me!" Wrex yelled as he hauled me to my feet. It was now difficult to hear over the sound of the ruining caving in on itself. "Let's get out of here!"

Tali was helping Liara to her feet. After using her biotics I knew she was now in even more danger. I grabbed her arm and started to run behind the rest of the squad, half pulling, half dragging Liara as we went.

I looked back and noticed the ramp we were using to escape was now being dragged into the collapsing ruin. "GO GO GO!"

Liara was managing to keep up, and I noticed her starting to look back.

"Don't look back!"

"Why?"

"Because I just did! Run faster!"

The dust was choking out the light ahead and I hoped the exit hadn't been sealed. The adrenaline was coursing through my veins and I used every ounce of energy I had to throw Liara ahead of me and out of the ruin. She fell and I fell right behind her, glad to see the ash covered sky above.

I could barely breath. Everything hurt. But the battle wasn't over. Everyone loaded into the Mako and I helped Liara inside.

I lay her down on the floor of the vehicle and quickly grabbed whatever cooling packs I could find, placing them under her arms, around her neck, and on her groin. I poured water on her face and watched her eyes unable to focus.

"Thank you." Were the last words she managed before she passed out.

"Hey!" I poured more water on her face and gently tapped her cheeks. "Liara! Wake up!"

"She's going into shock!" Ashley said as she climbed into the crew commander's seat. "We're five mikes from the RV, sir."

"Get us there, chief!" I looked back to Liara, her blue skin turning increasingly paler shades of white. "_Normandy._ Have medical ready when we dock. Prep for multiple heat casualties." I looked around the crew. "Everyone else alright?" They all nodded yes and I turned back to Liara, unconscious, her breathing shallow and weak.

I did my best to bring Liara's temperature back down. I hadn't noticed that I had also stopped sweating.

* * *

**A/N: **_A little longer than normal but I really wanted to fit all that in there. A huge thanks goes out to everyone who has reviewed or PMd so far! Please keep em coming! It really helps me improve as well as retain the motivation to keep writing._

_Also, big shout out again to Sharrukin. I hope this chapter can adequately compliment his take on this event._

_Keep on reading and enjoying! Cheers._


	17. First Impressions

The instant the Mako ramp dropped, I was rushing towards the stretcher with Liara in my arms. I placed her down gently and the two crewmen whisked her off to the med bay. My tasks finally complete, and my adrenaline nearly worn off, I felt my legs start to wobble and used the bulkhead to ease my fall to the floor. Almost immediately, two more crewmen were stripping off my hardsuit, cutting my underarmour, and working diligently to bring my body temperature back down.

I sipped on my electrolyte solution and did my best to glance around the room while the med techs took my vitals. Wrex was no worse for wear, minus the superficial wounds he had been given by Goro, Garrus was still standing, taking in water, and Tali was doing a spot check on her enviro suit. Ashley, however, was in the same boat I was, though she was constantly trying to wave off the crewmen Kaidan had tasked.

Feeling a little better I tried to stand and hissed in pain. _Oh yeah. Dislocated shoulder._ I locked eyes with Kaidan who seemed to have the situation under control, and rode the elevator up to the med bay with Ash, clad in nothing but our underwear and the various cooling packs strapped to our bodies.

She leaned back and grimaced. "Pretty nasty cut you got there."

"I'll live." I replied gruffly, taking a second to look her over. Her athletic, muscular frame was covered in fresh bruising from her ankles to her neck. "You don't look so good yourself, Chief."

She leaned against the railing and smiled. "There's a good reason you'll never see me in one of those tin foil skirts."

"That's what the thigh high boots are for."

"Yeah, well. You'll have to buy me dinner first." She flashed a smirk my way before abruptly turning her attention to the elevator doors.

The elevator opened and we both made our way to the med bay. Chakwas already had Liara stripped out of her lab clothes and she and two others were lowering her into a tub of cool water.

There is little room for modesty aboard a ship, especially in one as small as the _Normandy,_ and especially during times of medical emergencies, but I averted my eyes anyway. Out of respect or embarrassment I'll never know.

I lined up my right arm against the bulkhead, intent on knocking my shoulder back in myself.

"Don't you dare!" Chakwas' voice stopped me just before I slammed into the wall. "You'll wait patiently for your turn. I'm just getting her IV in. Sit down." She turned to her assistant. "Mandira, would you please start both Commander Shepard and Chief Williams on an electrolyte drip."

"Yes ma'am."

I sat down on the bed across from Liara who was now covered in cold compresses and hooked up to an IV and monitor. Satisfied with Liara's condition, Chakwas turned her attention to me. She helped me lay face down on the bed with my right arm dangling over the side.

"Hm. You might need one or two stitches." I felt her fingers graze over my head wound. "We'll get this shoulder back in place first." She grasped my arm holding the inside of my elbow and wrist and gently pulled. I heard my shoulder pop back into place and I was immediately relieved of the pain. She rolled me onto my left side, putting my arm into a sling position and began cleaning my head. I was staring directly at Liara, her body covered with a thin paper sheet.

"She's stable now." Chakwas stated as if reading my mind.

"I guess turning blue is only good if you're asari." Ashley called from the other side of the room, now dressed in a paper gown.

"I'm impressed with her resilience." Chakwas continued. "Few people can survive what she survived."

We had been on Therum for less than seven hours, and Ash and I had succumbed to heat illness. "She's a biotic." I mumbled stupidly as I watched her chest steadily rise and fall almost hypnotically. There was bruising around her eyes and her neck, and her skin was slowly returning to its original, vibrant blue.

"Then her consumption of energy was nearly doubled. She'll be out for a while." I felt a cool, comforting sensation as Chakwas applied medigel to my head wound, and covered it with a bandage. "It shouldn't scar. No heavy lifting, no sleeping on your right side or your stomach, or your back and take these pain meds with meals twice a day."

I tried to rise from the bed but Chakwas gentle pushed me back down, again on my side. "Let the IV work, then you can leave."

"Yes, ma'am." I sighed. The rush of endorphins and adrenaline had completely worn off now and I felt myself drifting off to sleep, staring at Liara as I dozed off. Liara's features were small but well defined. Her facial markings above her eyes resembling thin eyebrows, her upper cheeks dotted with barely visible…freckles…or rather more facial markings. Her nose, small and sloped upwards at the tip had a distinctly human, celestial quality to it. It's hard to imagine an instance where I didn't find Liara striking. Even lying there, pale and distressed, she was lovely. A comforting image I held in my mind before I closed my eyes.

* * *

After only twenty minutes of sleep, I was jarred awake by the sound of Chakwas cleaning up the bay, but I felt incredibly refreshed. Throwing on the uniform she had carefully laid out for me, I made my way to my quarters for a shower before heading down to the cargo hold to check on the rest of the crew. I was delighted to find the non-humans aboard were adjusting rather well. Tali had found her niche in engineering and Adams had been glad to have her technological input. Having served in the turian military, Garrus found solace in maintaining the _Normandy's_ weapon systems, and I found fit to appoint him my Combat Executive. And Wrex. Wrex spent most of his time in the cargo hold and had even opted to sleep there (it was also the only space on the ship large enough to accommodate him). He spent most of his time tinkering with personal weapons, upgrading them, and even conducting dry ranges with some of the crew. The only topic that seemed to be off limits with Wrex was his ancestry.

It had been several hours since we left Therum's orbit and we were making our way towards the Citadel. My report had included details about our operation on Therum, the destruction of a massive Prothean ruin, and the rescue of Liara T'Soni. But I would need Liara to fill in the blanks about her mother's involvement. It didn't make sense that her mother would allow Saren to send geth forces to capture, and/or kill her own daughter. Something wasn't right.

"Best to start an interview with a light conversation. It lets you know their character. You can find their level of intelligence or nervousness, and adapt to it." Not having much experience on the questioning side of these exchanges, I sought Garrus' input.

"Switch to the subject of questioning abruptly. This way you'll be able to notice her reaction. Remember that in nine out of ten cases the first impressions are the most correct. Go with your gut."

"My gut tells me to trust her." I said. "That krogan battlemaster didn't sound like he was too friendly."

"Just let her do most of the talking and you'll be fine. She hasn't exactly committed a crime."

"She hasn't at all committed a crime."

"You're right. It's not like she destroyed a major Prothean ruin or anything. I think the credit for that one goes to us."

I smiled and left Garrus to his work and made my way back to my cabin.

On an Alliance vessel, a "day" lasts 18 hours and is split into three six-hour shifts. So a crewman may work for six hours and train, maintain equipment or sleep for 12 hours. The crew constantly trains to handle various casualties and scenarios, such as fire or hull breach. Others may perform routine preventive maintenance on the equipment that they are responsible for (e.g., a radioman periodically changes emergency batteries on some of his radio gear, an electrician periodically inspects the ship's wiring for problems, etc.). A wide variety of activities are available during free time. The ships carried about four hundred movies, which were exchanged for newer ones in each port. Card games and various board games were also popular. There were also some athletic equipment on board, such as an exercise bike, versa climber, rowing machines, and free weights. The cargo hold was often transformed into a combat room while Marines trained in hand to hand combat for fun and fitness.

Food was also an essential part of ship life. Most Alliance vessels have ongoing contests to determine which ship cooks the best meals. The fresh fruit, vegetables, eggs, and milk usually don't last for more than a few weeks, but the creative cooks on ships work wonders with canned and frozen foods to supplement the meals they create. Crewmen have four meals per day - breakfast, lunch, dinner and midnight rations, commonly known as "midrats." Menus include eggs, hotcakes, and cereal for breakfast; deli sandwiches, hamburgers, and pizza for lunch; pasta, steak, chicken, and pork dishes for dinner; and leftovers for midrats.

I kept myself busy with routine administration, research, reports, planning, and info analysis. It was essential to always be thinking two or three moves ahead. It made it easier to prepare and deploy for most situations. While I wasn't on shift, Pressly, my XO, or Garrus, my new Combat executive was, so there was always an authority figure wandering around the deck. I never did a particularly good job of sticking to my shift, however.

I was about to take my five hours of sleep I had allowed myself that day when my console chimed.

_Commander. Our guest has been conscious for a few hours now. I've got her set up in the lab. She's expecting you._

_-Dr. C_

I once again put on my uniform and made my way to the medical bay.

"She's awake, tired and a little shaken but otherwise fine. She's eaten and showered and I gave her one of my lab uniforms."

"Understood."

"She's a little distraught. I told her you would fill her in. She was out for about twelve hours." I nodded and satisfaction and proceeded to the small laboratory situated in the back of the medical bay. Liara was sitting on a chair, her back to me, working busily at one of the consoles. A cot had been pulled from the back wall and the crates of medical supplies had been rearranged to accommodate a small living space. She startled at the hiss of the door and turned to look at me.

Her eyes were vibrant, impossibly blue, and trained on me. Her expression shifted from surprise to calm to apprehension in less than a second.

"Doctor T'Soni. You're looking much better."

"Yes. Thank you. Your medical officer is quite skilled. I was impressed with her knowledge of asari physiology."

I sat down on the seat beside her and she seemed to relax a little.

"Yeah, Doctor Chakwas is the best." There was an awkward pause as I forgot my words, they must have gotten lost somewhere in her deep blue stare.

"You are Commander Shepard?"

In that small space I became very aware of her scent. It was faint, and only captured at various intervals and in certain angles, but occasionally my senses were overwhelmed with a light scent of vanilla and lavender. In those moments I was often rendered helpless.

"I guess we were never properly introduced. I'm Commander Shepard, Captain of the _Normandy_, the vessel we're currently on. We're making our way for the Citadel now."

She shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with either me or the confined space, or possibly both. "I don't have a lot of experience dealing with your species, Commander. But I am grateful to you. If you hadn't shown up, those geth would have killed me. Or dragged me off to Saren."

"That's actually what I came here to talk about. I have a few questions regarding your mother and her connection to Saren."

Her eyes dropped to the floor. "I am not sure of Benezia's motivations. She and I have not spoken for some time." When an asari uses a phrase like 'some time' one is advised to think big. Decades. "Last I heard, she was Saren Arterius' executor and a fellow Binary Helix investor."

"How long has she been working with him?"

"I would say close to a decade now. She…lost some of her acolytes once her alliance with Saren was made public. She believed she could steer Saren towards a more peaceful path. Despite his nature, his talents are quite impressive. My mother believed she could correct his flaws. Many disagreed and left her influence."

"Do you know any of her followers? Where they might be?"

"Unfortunately, no. I was never particularly interested in following my mother's path." Her voice began to trail off. "For better or worse." She paused for a second deep in thought before looking at me again. "I am not sure what triggered this change. She is not a violent person."

"Then this might come as a shock." I adjusted my position, placing my elbows on my knees and leaning forward towards her. "Four days ago, Saren and the geth attacked the human colony Eden Prime. The colonists had unearthed a Prothean beacon, and Saren managed to get his hands on it."

That got her attention and her eyes widened in shock. "A Prothean beacon? A _working_ Prothean beacon?"

"Yes. It downloaded a message of some kind before it was destroyed. Now according to a recording we discovered, he's looking for something called the conduit."

"Goddess. This is quite remarkable. The beacons were designed to transmit information directly into the mind of the user. Finding one that works is incredibly rare! But the beacons were only programmed to interact with Prothean physiology. Whatever Saren received would have been unclear. It would have left him confused more than anything."

"You're telling me." I laughed.

If it was possible, her eyes got even wider.

"You…you've seen the vision as well?"

I gave a small positive nod.

"Goddess! That is…incredible! What did you see?"

I waved my hand in dismissal, not really eager to review the images burned into my brain, and not really able to describe them even if I wanted to.

"I think you've just answered why Saren wanted you captured. He'd want to make sense of the visions, and he figures you're his best shot. Judging from the amount of research you've conducted on the subject, I'd say he's right, and we're lucky we got to you first."

"While I am an expert in the Protheans, my work is hardly considered so. My theories have mostly been dismissed due in part to my age, and in larger part to the lack of evidence I seem to present." She said. "He must have wanted me to…make sense of his vision."

Now it was my turn to be confused. "How could you do that?"

"Asari posses the ability to share memories and thoughts. You would think of it more as a telepathic exchange. An asari with my knowledge could theoretically observe the images through a mental connection and attempt to make sense of them. That must have been his goal." I watched Liara actually shiver at the thought. That precluded my asking her to do the same for me.

"Your mother also mentioned the return of something called the _Reapers."_

"I have never heard the term."

"Which is strange because I feel like I have." I closed my eyes and reluctantly brought the images to the front of my mind. "I saw synthetics wiping out an organic race. Initially I thought it was the geth, but the more I see the vision…I think the Reapers are the ones who exterminated the Protheans."

She stood, suddenly unable to contain her excitement any longer. "This is…overwhelming. I've been working for more than fifty years. I've tracked down every scrap and shred of evidence indicating the Protheans were wiped out by a single, galactic event. It seems unbelievable, which explains why most do not believe it."

"The galactic wide extinction of a highly advance race is a little hard to fathom, never mind them being wiped out by a race of synthetic machines that the geth believe are gods." Saying it out loud made me really see how unreasonable it actually sounded.

She let out a quiet, contained laugh and sat back down.

"Liara, thank you for being so cooperative. We'll be docking at the Citadel shortly. If you need anything to secure passage to Thessia, or asari space please let me know."

Her brow furrowed as I stood to leave. "Wait. You rescue me from a geth attack, tell me that my mother is a galactic threat, turn a half-century of dedicated research upside-down, and you're not even going to offer me a chance to find any answers?"

I was taken aback by her sudden onslaught of assertiveness. "I uh…what did you have in mind?" I asked genuinely.

"Seems you have need of a Prothean expert on your crew." She said, suddenly retreating from her boldness.

"Alright." I smiled. "Perhaps I could work out a research expedition contract between the Alliance and your university."

"That would be fine." She said softly. "Seeing as you are trying to rewrite galactic history, I do not think they will object."

"History changes all the time." I told her while half hanging out the door. "It's constantly being re-examined and re-evaluated, otherwise how would we be able to keep intellectuals occupied? We can't possibly allow people with your sort of minds to walk around with time on their hands."

I left her cramped lab space feeling a little better about our situation, and a little better in general. Her scent was still in my nostrils, on my clothes, on my skin. I couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at my lips as I made my way back to my cabin to complete my report.

* * *

**A/N:**_ Please continue to read and review! Save the tomatoes for a PM though, please. A big thanks to those who have taken the time to review thus far!_

_Cheers!_


	18. Risk vs Gain

OP in the middle of the night on Anhur gets a visit from screaming civilians: "There's been an ambush! So and so is lying in this area, bleeding to death! Help us! We've got to go and get him!" Sometimes I would say, "No. Stay where you are. Wait till the morning." You run into the issue of risk versus what are you trying to achieve. And the OP is typically manned by a sergeant, capable of assessing risk on his own, or sometimes even private soldiers, who trust you to make the decision for them.

I always based my decisions on an assessment of the risk to my own troops versus what I would achieve. I had been asked to go recover three bodies. It was night time on the confrontation line, and they were dead anyways. There was no sense of risking some of my troops for somebody that was already dead, and would still be dead in the morning, as regrettable as that sounds.

Another time, it was somebody that had been wounded, who was in a mined area, who was in danger of dying and it was on the confrontation line, it was nighttime, and it was a wooded area. I was taking tremendous risk to my own troops to go and get him. We might have saved him but who's to say my troops in the dark forest wouldn't be mistaken for one of the belligerents and get shot and killed. There were mines in that area. We weren't exactly sure where they were, we may or may not be able to save him, and based on the people who came to see us and what we they were doing, there was no doubt he was a belligerent and our mandate did not involve saving belligerents engaged in fighting in their own war.

There were some cases where we did go. I remember once that women and girls were picking berries or something, they were in the forest and the girl stepped on a mine, lost her leg, and all of a sudden you have hysterical women saying, "Help! Help!" In those cases my soldiers were very good. They knew to do the right thing. They told me afterward, they went in the minefield and got the girl and gave her first aid and sent her to the hospital. It always came down to risk versus gain.

* * *

I rolled out of my bed at the first sound of the alarm. My body moved instinctively, conditioned by years of training. By the time my feet hit the floor, I was already awake and alert, my mind evaluating the situation. The alarm rang again, echoing off the hull to rebound throughout the ship. Two short blasts, repeating over and over. A general call to stations. At least we weren't under immediate attack.

As I pulled my uniform on, I ran through the possible scenarios. A general call to stations meant that we'd spotted an unauthorized vessel, or responding to a general distress call. I hoped it was the former.

In less than a minute I had my uniform on, my boots secured, and was moving quickly through the narrow corridors to the bridge. Pressly was on shift, and I needed to get briefed on the situation as quickly as possible. Invariably, crewmen would press themselves against the corridor walls in an effort to let me pass, snapping off awkward salutes as I squeezed past. The entire process was carried out with an efficiency and crisp precision, despite the confined space.

As I passed navigation, I noticed a pair of junior officers making rapid calculations and applying them to a three-dimensional star chart projected above their consoles. They each gave me a curt, respectful nod and I responded with a grim tilt of my head. They were plotting a route to the nearest mass relay. Meaning we were responding to a distress call. The brutal truth was that, more often than not, responses came too late.

Pressly was hunched over a small view screen, studying a stream of incoming transmissions. He snapped off a quick salute as he saw me approach.

"We've got trouble, sir. Picked up a distress call when we linked up to the com relays."

"Where's it coming from?"

"Edolus. No voice recording. Just an SOS. It's being transmitted on an Alliance freq. It's possible they were conducting general exploration…or maneuvers…"

Pressly was grasping at straws. As far as I knew, there were no operations planned on Edolus, few resources of note, and exploration was unnecessarily risky. But I was legally obligated to investigate any distress signal I encountered. I hoped the _why _could be answered if or when I found the Marines.

"What's our ETA?"

"Forty-six minutes, sir."

That was good news. It was pure chance that we were that close to a distress call. Most I had encountered were answered days later.

"Have Lieutenant Alenko assemble the ground team. Williams leads QRF."

Pressly responded with another salute, and an "aye aye, sir." As I punched the button for the cargo hold and collected my thoughts.

Edolus' orbit was congested with debris thrown inwards by the gravity of the gas giant Ontamalca. Due to a high rate of meteor impacts, exploration was highly dangerous, and even a Mako drop was risky. With no enemy presence detected, a shuttle insertion was most practical, but we would require the protection the Mako provided on the ground. Meteor strikes were a huge danger.

No enemy presence indicated several possibilities. The Marines were conducting general exploration and broke down, they were attacked by a mercenary band and were injured or wounded, or their ship or vehicle may have been struck by a metoer. Very rarely are squads inserted and simply _left alone._

I boarded the Mako with Wrex, Kaidan, Garrus and two other marines in order to form three fire teams of two, and we landed without incident about three kilometers from the signal. From there, we drove.

There were no signs of fighting, no signs of ambush, no signs of anything as we approached the distress beacon. It was quiet, save for the sound of meteors impacting in the distance.

The planet was dotted with massive craters, crests and hills most likely shaped by the constant meteor shower over an extended period of time. As we got closer to the distress signal I started looking for positions of cover and had Tucks settle behind a small ridge, large enough to hide the hull of the Mako.

"Sir. Damaged vehicle. Looks like a Grizzly." Sergeant Chase zoomed in on the area, and I saw three bodies. Distinctly human, scattered around the vehicle. It was difficult to tell how long they had been there. "Bodies."

"I see them." I said, keeping my tone steady. "Looks like we're too late." That part of it didn't surprise me. Responses to distress calls often came too late. Much too late. And all that was left were bodies and burning infrastructure.

"Should we go pick them up?" I felt Tucks take his foot off the brake as he prepared to jockey.

Something didn't feel right. The Grizzly had been badly damaged, it looked as if there was a hole torn right through it, and I could only see three bodies. Most exploration teams work in groups of sixteen or higher. The sight was also way too open. Open spaces make Marines nervous. It leaves you exposed, vulnerable, and visible. There were option in the hills, using the ground around them, using the craters for cover. There was no reason that they should have been parked in the middle of an open space.

"That's a Thresher nest." Wrex's deep voice stated matter of factly.

Garrus leaned in to get a better look on the crew screens. "How can you be sure."

"Been in one before. Decades ago. Look at the way the earth is disturbed. Look at the hole in that vehicle. No ammunition I've seen can melt anything quite like a Maw." He said flatly.

"I'm not seeing any signs of activity now." I looked back at Wrex. "Maybe it left."

Wrex shook his head. "Maws are pretty territorial. You won't get a thermal reading or anything. Bastards live underground. Deep." He moved switched his camera view to observe the entire area. "Only one way to really find out though…" I felt his eyes burning into me.

"Which is?" Kaidan prompted.

Wrex shrugged. "Bait."

In 2177, Akuze was in the early stages of colonization when all contact was lost with the pioneer team. An Alliance Marine unit was then sent in to investigate, but found only the intact settlement and no survivors. When the unit camped for the night, they were set upon by thresher maws. Not knowing what they faced, the unit was slaughtered almost to the last man; fifty Marines were lost, no one made it out alive. Standard operating procedure when encountering a Thresher Maw is to run, as fast as you can, away. Pick up sticks. Get the hell out of there.

The Marines on Edolus were dead. There were clearly no survivors, and secondary scans of the planet showed no signs of human life anywhere. I would potentially risk the lives of my crew, my vehicle, and jeopardize the larger mission by confirming whether or not the Grizzly and its crew were sitting on a Thresher nest. On the other hand, I might have retrieved the bodies, found intel on the situation, and returned those soldiers to their families.

The risks were greater than the gain.

"Target the beacon." I said.

Chase did as she was ordered, targeted the distress beacon, and fired.

"_Normandy_ this is Shepard. Sitrep. Encountered distress signal inside possible Thresher nest. Beacon has been destroyed. Proceeding to extraction point."

As the Mako departed, the feeling inside the vehicle was palpable. They, my Alliance personnel, were disappointed, a little hurt, and probably feeling a little betrayed.

Every soldier wants to believe that no one gets left behind. In a spiritual sense, this is entirely true, however, physically, sometimes it's just not possible. Piling up bodies doesn't solve anything it just creates more grief. It wasn't worth it, and I've had to live with the fact that I left those soldiers behind. That Thresher nest was their grave.

Kaidan could barely stand to look at me, but I knew he would come around. As a soldier, you understand the risk. You are fully prepared to face a violent end to your life, but it's hard to realize that as a soldier, you may continue to sacrifice even after you've paid the ultimate price.

As soon as the Mako docked, I stripped off my armour, threw on a fresh uniform and made my way to the bridge. My mood had gone from hopeful to disappointed to downright pissed off. I thought about those soldiers and their families. More than that, I thought about the idiot who had sent his squad into the middle of a Thresher Nest. He had paid with his life, but I was no less furious about the entire situation.

I moved with a determination and sense of urgency fueled by my anger. "Link to a buoy and connect me to the Fifth Fleet. Those Marines were dead, in the middle of a Thresher nest. I want to know why."

"Sir." Pressly tried to get out a few more words as I turned towards the galaxy map. "Sir, I think you want to hear this first."

I hadn't noticed Tali standing beside him.

"What is it?" I sounded colder than I intended.

"Well…on a hunch, I took it upon myself to deconstruct the signal." She brought up the distress signal on her omni-tool. "Notice that this simple non-linearity introduces new harmonics with frequencies and phases that are correlated. These correlations simply could not have been introduced through a linear transform. "

My head was swimming. "You're going to have to dumb it down a shade."

"The signal is forged." Her voice now a little higher. "Our goal now is to try to detect these "un-natural" higher-order correlations as a means of detecting the presence of the non-linearity."

I lowered my eyes and furrowed my brow, clearly impressed with Tali's technical skills. "You can do that?"

"With enough time, and data…I can do just about anything." She propped her hand on her hip and was standing rather confidently in front of me on the bridge.

"Excellent work, Tali. You're now officially tasked." I turned to Pressly. "No change to our course. Make for the Citadel. I've got a few people to speak to. Orders group at 1000 hours in the mess." He saluted me and I went back to my quarters. I sent a quick message to Anderson requesting a meeting, and one to Udina requesting the same.

The forgery of an Alliance distress signal had serious implications. At this point, I wasn't even trusting my own coms. And being raised Greek; I learned it was always better to do things face to face. Less room for 'artistic interpretation'.

I quickly washed up and prepped myself for my orders group. With no conference room to speak of, most orders groups and briefings occurred in the mess with myself at the head of the table, Pressly to my right, Ashley to my left, and Kaidan and Garrus seated on either side. I always liked to be a little early to get sorted and settled.

Pouring myself a cup of coffee I sat down and reviewed my points for discussion.

I casually sipped my drink and my eyes were drawn to movement inside the med bay. Liara was working at one of Chakwas' stations, no doubt researching something. We locked eyes and I smiled, giving her a friendly nod of my head.

She stared at me a split second longer, did not return the smile, and returned her gaze to her console.

I started to assess risk versus gain.

* * *

**A/N:**_ Took a different approach to this chapter and tried to bludgeon you all to death with a theme. Let me know what you think!_


	19. Tabula Rasa

The _Normandy_ had docked at the Citadel two and a half days after the incident at Edolus without further interruption. We had a one-night QFS (Quick Fuel Stop) to take on fuel and we were to depart the next morning at eight o'clock, and so I gave the ship's company leave overnight. Leave expires at seven AM, so most opted to stay in a hotel or bunk at the small Alliance outpost on the Citadel. Nothing like a bed and bath to yourself after several weeks or months adrift. I usually stayed aboard the ship so I could be easily found.

I was the last to step off the ship and into the docking area, only to be instantly greeted by a very disgruntled Admiral. I could understand his position. The _Normandy_ and her crew had been slated for his 63rd Scout Flotilla following shakedown, however, things never quite go according to plan. I saluted, finished each sentence with 'sir', apologized for not having a formal greeting arranged, and gladly answered each and every question he had during his 'formal inspection' of the ship that was supposed to be his. In the end, he was placated enough to write his report in a positive light. Not that it would have mattered. Still, always a good idea to keep the brass as happy as possible.

I took the elevator down to clear through C-Sec customs and was ambushed by a very aggressive reporter. Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani pushed for answers that would 'prove' I was a shill for the Council and became irritated when she did not receive them. Dealing with the press is easy enough. Usually human reporters are eager to paint the Alliance in a positive light. Al-Jilani, on the other hand, was an entirely different species of reporter. The Alliance Public Affairs office had sent me a list of appropriate responses to questions about my mission, the Alliance's co-development of the _Normandy_ and even my appointment as a Spectre. Much to her annoyance, no amount of goading could throw me off.

I sent a message to Anderson, letting him know about the interview before it aired and confirmed our meeting that was to take place later that day, and took a seat in a small café to enjoy a coffee and a quick breakfast while reviewing Tali's findings on the forged signal. The level of sophistication worried me. I was hoping Anderson had some luck tracking down the unit commander at the very least. As far as leads went, I had little to go on at this point.

A shadow slowly appeared on my table and I felt someone standing in front of me. I raised my eyes from my data pad, set my coffee down and locked eyes with the man in front of me.

He had dark brown skin, short grey hair, and heavy bags under his eyes that made him appear older than he should have been.

"Commander Shepard?" He asked with a rare East Indian accent. "My name is Samesh Bhatia. Forgive the intrusion but I have no where else to turn." He was wringing his hands nervously as he looked around the room.

I set everything down and offered him the chair across from me. "No trouble at all. Is there something I can do for you?"

He took the seat willingly and took a breath before beginning. His eyes were red and tired. "My wife. Serviceman Nirali Bhatia. She was with the 212 on Eden Prime."

I sat back, the realization suddenly hitting me. I desperately needed inspiration when my troops died. Few individuals can carry the weight of the most tragic events by themselves, and most of those who can are not the kinds of human beings you would want as leaders. The ones who inspired me came from all walks of life. They wrote to me and talked to me in person. Some grabbed my hand and were too choked up to speak. Others spoke eloquently. Some cried on my shoulder, and I shed tears with many.

"I am very sorry for your loss, Mr. Bhatia." I said sincerely. Samesh swallowed hard and nodded his head. He was grieving yes, but there was something else. "I've requested my wife's body be returned to me for cremation. But the military has refused my request."

While repatriation is a considerably exhausting process, the body of a fallen soldier is always released to the family. The family decides whether or not to hold a military funeral. The family decides what to do with their loved one. Samesh shouldn't have even needed to request her body be returned. It should have just happened.

He must have seen my confusion because he stared back intently. "Did they say why?"

"No. They just told me that it would be impossible. I just want to give my wife a proper funeral and the respect she deserves." Samesh placed a small stack of hard copy paper onto the table. "All her info is here. My request and my denials as well. If anything…I just want to know why. I want to see her one more time." He looked away, trying to hold back his tears.

"Let me look into this. I'll do what I can." I said. I wrote down her name and service number and handed him back his papers. He took them and stood, and too choked up to speak, nodded to me in thanks.

Ashley met me fifteen minutes later and took the same seat Samesh had taken. I explained the situation to her and asked her to look into it while I was meeting with Anderson. She agreed. Nirali was one of her soldiers and she felt she had a personal duty to find out why she was not being returned to her family.

"If you run into any road blocks, throw my Spectre status at them. If they're still not telling you anything, I'll get involved personally."

"Thanks. I'll start with the embassy. I still know a few people around here." She grabbed her coffee to go and I left for my meeting.

Anderson was given a small office, several floors down from Udina's, big enough to fit a desk and two chairs across from him. He didn't even give me a chance to salute before introducing me to Rear Admiral Kahoku, an Alliance officer, who fought with distinction against the batarians during the Skyllian Blitz, and had earned the loyalty and respect of his men.

He shook my hand firmly. "Commander, it's a pleasure to meet you. Captain Anderson speaks very highly of you."

"Thank you, Sir." I glanced over at Anderson who motion for me to sit.

"Shepard, the team you found on Edolus belonged to Admiral Kahoku." I turned my attention to the Admiral, his expression difficult to read.

"Four months ago, a man named Armistan Banes was contracted by the Alliance to conduct research in the Attican Traverse. Last week, his corpse was found on a derelict ship in the Sparta system. I sent a recon group to investigate. Four days ago we lost contact, and I couldn't get clearance to check it out. It had been declared a restricted area. I want to know what happened to them."

I played the SOS recording, displaying Tali's deconstruction of the signal. "Sir, your men were lured into a Thresher nest by a false signal. I've got my tech experts trying to find its origin, but so far no luck."

"This has Akuze written all over it." Kahoku stared at Anderson. "This has Cerberus written all over it."

Immediately following the First Contact War, an anonymous extranet manifesto warned that an alien attempt at human genocide was inevitable. The manifesto called for an army - a Cerberus to guard against invasion through the Charon relay.

Cerberus was then created as an Alliance Black Op, and was designed to conduct operations involving activities that were highly clandestine and often outside of standard military/intelligence protocol, sometimes against the law. It was disbanded not long after its formation when the Alliance caught wind of torture, kidnapping, and assassinations.

"Who else would have access to Alliance technology? Who else could justify this type of brutality?" Kahoku was beginning to raise his voice.

"Let's not jump to conclusions just yet." Anderson interrupted. "We need to find out who forged the signal. And how."

"Sir," I turned to Kahoku, "If we can break into the forged code, we might be able to find out who did this."

He took a breath and stood, preparing to leave. "Thank you, Commander. I appreciate everything you've done. But I owe it to my soldiers and their families to find out who killed them and why. Send me that SOS recording. I will forward you anything I can as I continue my investigation."

He turned abruptly and left. I started to do the same.

"One more thing before you go." Anderson said, pulling a datapad from his desk drawer. "This comes direct from Fifth Fleet Command. Delicate situation. Contact Hackett directly once it's resolved."

I reached across the desk and grabbed the datapad. "What makes you think I'll have it resolved?"

"Because you don't have a choice. Good luck."

I left Anderson's office and was met by Ashley, who had been trying to reach me for the better part of an hour.

"Found out why they won't release her body." She said as we walked. "To sum it all up, they're studying her injuries to learn more about geth weaponry. So I tell him all this and he gets very upset and starts telling me his wife has already carried out her service and that he only wants her back."

We turned a corner and continued walking towards the markets. "Okay…"

"Well I _can_ get the body back if I play your Spectre card." She said.

"But." I coaxed.

"But if what the embassy told me is true, she could end up saving a lot more lives. But who am I to tell a grieving husband that is what his wife would have wanted. I knew her. Not well, but I knew that if she had the opportunity to save another soldier, she would have wanted it. I think he knows that too."

I stopped. "Ash. She was your soldier. This is your call. I'll support you either way. If you can convince Mr. Bhatia to see it that way, then go with it. But put yourself in his shoes before you do."

She stepped back and crossed her arms, nodding positively. "Okay. Thanks for the advice, Skipper."

"Anytime. Want me to go with you?"

"No. This one's mine." She gave me a forced smile and walked away. "Have fun with your meetings."

My meeting with Udina was short and unproductive. With no new leads on Saren or Matriarch Benezia, he mostly just wanted to blast me in front of the council for destroying an ancient Prothean ruin. I took my licks and left with a sour taste in my mouth before watching Ash talk with Samesh. Ash did well. She sat with him, held his hand, and let him make the final decision. In the end, he felt his wife would have wanted the chance to save the lives of her fellow soldiers, even after death.

With my day finally winding down, meetings complete, maintenance and replenishment ongoing, I decided to treat myself with a nice meal while reviewing my new assignment from Hackett. My heart almost stopped when I saw the name, and I instantly knew why _I_ had been selected to handle this particular situation.

I was knee deep in completing my combat estimate when I spotted Liara out of the corner of my eye. She had obviously gone shopping, not quite content with wearing Doctor Chakwas' lab outfits or Ashley's spare uniform, and instead purchasing her own lab wear. I watched as she sat down at a table on the far side of the restaurant, placed an order, and studied her data pad while sipping on a glass of wine. Quiet, solitary, introverted, but otherwise very content, I decided it would be a good idea to interrupt her moment in favour of some conversation.

"Doctor T'Soni." I stood at the opposite end of her table, holding my data pad in my hand, the chair across from her in the other. "Hope I'm not interrupting. I just received your employment contract from the University of Serrice. Wondering if you've had time to review it."

"Yes, Commander, it seems perfectly in order."

I smiled and moved the chair a little, encouraging her to invite me to sit. She didn't, so I invited myself.

"Mind if I join you? I was planning on having a little dinner over there by myself. Seems like a waste of tables. Valuable resource on the Citadel so I hear."

"Oh!" light bulb. "Of course, please."

I sat down as she set her data pad to the side, and finally ordered my dinner and a tall glass of beer.

"How are you settling into the _Normandy?_"

She took a sip of her wine. "Not very well, I'm afraid. Your crew is weary of me. I see the way they look at me. They do not trust me."

I immediately wondered if the looks Liara were getting had less to do with suspicion, and more to do with her appearance. With most of the crew being male, it would be naïve to think otherwise. I made a note to investigate. "I consider myself a fairly good judge of character, Doctor. For whatever it's worth, I don't think you're lying and I know you'll do everything you can to help."

She gave me a small smile in reply.

"Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?"

She looked shocked by the request. "I am afraid I am not that interesting. I spend most of my time on remote digs, unearthing mundane items from long forgotten Prothean ruins. Until the geth followed me to Therum, I had never found myself in a situation my biotics could not handle."

"I'm just glad we got there in time." I said sincerely.

She let out a short laugh. "So am I." Another sip of her wine. "I never properly thanked you."

"And you'll never have to." My look must have said more than my words because before I knew it, she was blushing furiously. Luckily our food arrived before I could worsen the situation.

"What is that you are eating?" She asked.

"Steak." I carved a small piece and offered it to her. She politely refused. "I try to have one every time we dock. I won't let the Alliance's tendency to turn perfectly good meat into the bottom of a leather shoe ruin my love for it." I gestured to her plate. "And you're eating _garnale slaai._ A traditional asari dish closely resembling squid salad."

Liara wasn't sure how to react. She was struggling between smiling, blushing, and feigning indifference.

"It seems I know even less about humans than I originally thought." She said quietly as she began eating.

"I ordered it once, accidentally."

"And you did not like it?"

"I think it's more of an acquired taste." _I'm not even sure what I'm talking about anymore._ I took a long swig of my drink. "So what interested you in the Protheans?"

She contemplated her answer for several seconds. "I suppose my interest came from disinterest. Most theories of their extinction are well established and there is little evidence of their existence. Most asari believe we have discovered all we can about them. And...I suppose it was to escape the expectations that came with being the daughter of a Matriarch."

Her expression became a little sad, obviously thinking of her mother. I wondered if Liara'a career choice had anything to do with their falling out.

"I've upset you, I'm sorry." I said as I finished my meal, placing my utensils on my plate.

"You have no need to apologize, Commander. I grew up surrounded by people expecting me to follow in my mother's footsteps. They wanted me to become a leader of our people. I never saw myself as such. And I love what I do."

"I think you're more influential than you believe. You wouldn't be an expert in your field if you weren't."

"Unfortunately, because of my age, my research has never received the attention it deserves. I'm only one hundred and six, barely an adult by asari standards. It is difficult to become influential when no one wants to listen."

"I could listen to you talk all day." I couldn't believe I said that out loud, but Liara was too busy sipping her wine to notice my eyes widen in panic.

"I could never do that." I breathed a sigh of relief. _Thank god she took it literally._ But honestly, I could listen to Liara read a dictionary, and hang on to every word. She still refuses to test my theory.

"I've always been drawn to the past." She continued. "The Protheans were these wondrous, mysterious figures. I wanted to know everything about them." She was suddenly looking at me very intently. "Perhaps that is why I find you so fascinating. You were touched by working Prothean technology. I have to admit, I am more than a little jealous."

_Fascinating. _I've been called many things in my life, but only one person has ever called me 'fascinating'.

"You sound like you want to study me in the lab." I said mockingly.

Her eyes went wide, and she shook her head. "No! I only meant that you would be an interesting subject for an in depth study." She brought her hand to her face. "Goddess that's even worse." She sounded exasperated, my smile simply got wider watching her embarrassment grow. "You are smiling."

"I was joking." I chuckled.

"Of course you were." She began to gather up her things. "Now you see why I prefer the solitude of dig sites. I am not very sociable."

"Practice makes perfect." She smiled in return, her panic and embarrassment subsiding.

"Thank you for speaking with me, Commander. I should get back to the _Normandy."_

"I'll walk you." I offered. "Give you more time to practice. And I'm heading there anyway."

We passed the embassy, and were walking through the markets towards the docking area when I noticed a small crowd gathered just outside the C-Sec precinct. I was drawn to the commotion, easily pushing past people trying to peer over one another.

I approached a human C-Sec officer who was positioning a sniper over his comm. "What's going on here?"

"I'm sorry, sir. You'll have to step back. We have the situation under control." He was shorter than me by several inches and had a thick French accent. "Wait. You're Commander Shepard?"

"And you are?"

"Lt Girard. This is excellent timing." He seemed to relax a little and led me over to his vehicle. "The young woman behind those crates, she is a survivor of Mindoir who was enslaved by batarians but escaped her captivity. She arrived on the Citadel this evening, and I was escorting her to Huerta Memorial when she grabbed my gun. She's threatening to kill herself. I can't get close enough to calm her down. Every step we take gets her more wound up."

My breath caught in my throat, my mind working in a thousand different ways. The last time I had thought of Mindoir, I had been going through a box of the few possessions they had recovered from my home, after the batarians had put it to the torch.

"Let me talk to her." I said without thinking, without even looking at Girard. Very rarely did humans survive batarian slaver camps. It was even more rare to escape one.

Girard nodded and alerted the others on the comm.. I looked at Liara and gestured with my hand for her to stay in place.

"Talitha?" Girard called. "Talitha, I want you to stay calm, someone is coming to speak with you. Someone from home."

I took off my jacket and made myself look as calm as possible, even as a fine sheen of sweat had broken out all over my body. I had negotiated ceasefires, even stopped warring factions from killing each other with their bare hands, but I'd never talked someone down from suicide.

I walked slowly around the crates and was met with the unfriendly end of a pistol. "S-Stop! What do you- what are you?" The girl was small and skinny. She couldn't have been any taller than 5'4, couldn't have weighed more than 100lbs. Her hair was stubble, her eyes sunken and tired, full of fear, panic, and pain.

I raised my hands and walked as close to her as she would allow, watching her body language carefully. "My name is John Shepard." I said calmly. "What is your name?"

"Animals don't get names. The masters put their symbols on her. Hot metal all over her back, she screams when they do it." She was talking a mile a minute, her hand squeezing the gun a little too tight for my comfort. I thought about knocking it away, and subduing her by force.

"You are not an animal. I want you to remember what your parents called you. Do you remember them?"

She lowered the gun and I lowered my arms. "Talitha." She said quietly. "They call her that. They're yelling. Run! Hide! The masters burn them. Sh- She doesn't want to see that! Don't make her look! Stupid! Stupid!" She was shouting and shaking, it took everything I had not to put my hands on her shoulders and stop it.

Confused and speaking in the third person, Talitha gradually told me her story. She was six when batarian slavers slaughtered her family and forced to watch her parents brutally murdered and incinerated. Talitha tried to hide from the batarians and hoped they would go away, but they captured her and implanted a control device in her head. The experience was torture, and she clearly had vivid memories of the entire ordeal. Her story was actually making me feel physically ill. I remembered watching the batarians pile human beings in heaps, and suddenly felt they were the lucky ones. Suddenly relieved I had found Stephanie, even if I had to watch her burn. At least she wasn't a slave. That was better, wasn't it?

She became a slave, physically abused and tortured even for crying, but Talitha gradually adjusted to her new life eventually developing Stockholm Syndrome over the years of her captivity. Eventually, the Alliance raided the slaver encampment, killed the batarians and freed their captives. Talitha was so inured to her existence as a slave that she even tried to help her 'masters' after they had been killed.

I had managed to talk her into sitting down with me on the floor, my eye still trained on the gun in her hand. "You know, Talitha, I was on Mindoir during the raid. My parents were killed too."

"Lying!" She yelled, more agitated now than she had ever been. "You get hit for lying! Get the buzz or the burning. Can't be there! You're not broken like her! Why aren't you broken!"

I remained calm, letting my body language and the tone of my voice encourage her to do the same. "I was broken. For a long time. I lost my whole family, Talitha. Someone helped me pick myself up and keep going."

"You lose your mommy and daddy. But you don't dig. You don't carry. You stand up." Her fatigue was starting to show through. "She wishes she could stand up. Will you help her stand up."

I stood, and offered my hand to her and she took it, leaving the gun on the floor. Her tears began to flow freely and I pulled her into a gentle hug. I took a small pill from my pocket, a sedative Doctor Chakwas had given me for my nightmares. "Talitha, this will make you sleep. If you fall asleep, I can take you to a place where you will get better."

She took the pill from my hand and swallowed it, still hanging onto me. "Will she have bad dreams?"

"No." I said softly. "No more bad dreams."

The sedative was having a near instant effect, due in part to her own fatigue, and her malnutrition. "It hurts...when she- when I...remember me. I want to...remember." I scooped her up in my arms and she fell asleep on my shoulder. I was sweating, and shaking almost invisibly when I walked over and placed her in the ambulance.

Girard thanked me, the crowd was patting me on the back, and Liara was following close behind not saying anything. I ignored everything as I rushed towards the _Normandy_, towards the safety of my private cabin.

There was now nobody left on the face of the earth, either friend or relative, _who knew who Talitha was_. No one who remembered her girlhood and her early mischief and family lore; no sibling or boon companion who could tease her about that first romance; no lover or pal with whom to reminisce. All her birthdays, exam results, illnesses, friendships, kinships—gone. She would go on living, but with a _tabula rasa_ as her diary and calendar and notebook. I think of this every time I hear of the callow ambition to 'make a new start' or to be 'born again'. There's nothing worse than a clean slate.

I fell back into my chair and tucked my hands between my knees to stop them from shaking. I sucked in a deep breath, held it, and tried to bring myself back to the present. Tried to conjure a better memory.

I tried to think about Liara.

* * *

**a/n: **_Sorry, this one kinda got away from me. It was meant to be more of a set up for several different missions._

_Thanks to all those who have taken the time to critique and review! Your words of encouragement (and even your tomatoes) are appreciated. Please review! And enjoy! Not necessarily in that order.  
_

_Also just came back from some winter warfare training in our great Canadian weather. Will hopefully be able to incorporate that into Noveria. :)  
_

_Cheers.  
_


	20. Past Mistakes

**A/N:**_ Nope, not dead. My sincere apologies for the delay in updates. Life got a little out of control, and had a family situation which caused a huge amount of writer's block. But all is well again.__ Please read, enjoy, and continue to review!_

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One of the best things I ever did to enable myself to weather long and difficult days, monstrous amounts of travel, broken hours and the pressure to always get things right was to ensure that I was physically fit, and that I stayed that way. I found enjoyment in lifting weights, hitting a heavy bag, and even running. As a young officer, I came to believe that a healthy body leads to a healthy mind, and I still believe this to be true.

Fitness activities ensured a break from endless routine- meetings, study, or preparations where muscles could become stiff, blood flow is interrupted and the brain is not properly supplied with oxygen to help you think. It was the best way to get out of my own head for a while and concentrate on my reps, or the way the bag swayed with every hit, and nothing else.

Conversely, I also had clearer thoughts about various issues during those workouts than I had at any other time. My mind was clear. I would run in a dissociative manner, that is, without thinking about running, so I could think about other things. Often when I had finished I had resolved conflicting priorities and had come to conclusions and made decisions I had been putting off.

After my encounter with Talitha, I found myself in the _Normandy's_ cargo hold working over the swinging heavy bag, mulling over my next assignment, and driving unwanted thoughts out of my mind.

Agebinium was a seemingly straightforward task.

During the First Contact War, the Alliance wasted little time in deploying hundreds of espionage probes, capable of discretely gathering intel on enemy activity and quickly sending it back for analysis.

Communication across an entire galaxy was no simple matter. Ships could use mass effect drives to exceed the speed of light, but signals transmitted through the cold vacuum of space by conventional means would still take years to travel from one solar system to another. Transferring information, personal messages, or even raw data across thousands of light-years expediently could only be accomplished in one of two ways. Files could be transported by courier drones, unmanned ships programmed to travel through the mass relays network by the most direct routes possible. But courier drones weren't cheap to produce or operate: fuel was expensive. And if they had to pass through several relays it could take hours for them to arrive at their destination. The solution wasn't practical for back-and-forth communications, however it was suitable for a one-time insertion.

When a decades old probe armed with a twenty-kiloton tactical fusion nuclear warhead suddenly sends a mission complete burst from half way across the galaxy, twenty six years later, it causes some concern. The situation had to be dealt with quickly, and quietly so as not to cause a diplomatic or political crisis.

All I had to do was track the signal, land on the surface, and recover the probe and payload. Liara had been eager to participate in any ground operations and the assignment provided the perfect opportunity to take advantage of her vast experience unearthing long forgotten relics. It also allowed me to observe her performance in a low stress, low danger environment. And while the assignment was classified above even my rank level, I exercised full disclosure with both Liara and Tali, the only other member of my recovery team.

I have always believed that people will work harder for you when they are given as much information as possible. Understanding your role and the importance of your task motivates soldiers, and in my honest opinion, encourages them to perform to their highest. When it comes to a task, if you don't have to hide something, don't.

This also solidified in Liara's mind, and the rest of the _Normandy _crew, that I trusted her, and she was an important and valuable member of the team. I had tasked Ashley with fitting her with armour, issuing weapons and conducting standard weapons and unarmed drills in the few days it took us to arrive in the Amazon system. While I wasn't anticipating heavy resistance, or any resistance at all for that matter on Agebinium, it gave me a chance to standardize Liara to Alliance practices. I had never seen her in combat, and my intent was to slowly ease her into things. She was more than able to handle herself, but I wanted to get a handle on where she stood combatively before deploying her into more hostile situations, and certainly before we found her mother.

My command mask now fully in place, I inspected both Tali and Liara before boarding the _Normandy's_ shuttle for insertion.

"Little different from Commando leathers, I expect." I said quietly as I clicked her shoulder pad securely into place. "Not that I have anything against them…"

"Yes, well, this armour is heavier than I am used to."

"You actually own Commando leathers?" Tali asked, apparently just as surprised by the revelation as I was.

"Most asari have some form of combative training. Being the daughter of a Matriarch, it was something of a necessity." She answered coolly.

The asari were something of a paradox for me. On the one hand they were an aesthetically captivating species. On the other hand, they were the most respected, admired, and powerful species in the galaxy.

Renowned for their wisdom and foresight, the asari, by all accepted accounts, were the first species after the Prothean extinction to achieve interstellar flight. They were also the first to discover the Citadel, and they were a founding member species of the Council. The asari controlled more territory and wielded more influence than any other race. They were also exceptional warriors.

Instead of a large, standing army, each asari community organized their own units under a commander as they saw fit. Larger cities were well armed and equipped while smaller villages may have only consisted of a few women with small arms. Either way, an asari one-on-one was nearly unbeatable given her technical, tactical, and guerilla style strikes. Asari chose to be warriors at a young age, and their education from that point was dedicated to sharpening their mind and body for that sole purpose. When they retired, they possessed an alarming proficiency for killing. At least, I know Liara did. The turians have a saying: "The asari are the finest warriors in the galaxy. Fortunately, there are not many of them."

Many humans often found it difficult to reconcile the asari's dominant role in galactic politics and their prowess on the battlefield with the enthralling performance of an asari on the stage. It was a product of human biases and ill-conceived expectations. But it went deeper than an impression formed by watching a few dancers: the asari looked female, so they were victims of stereotypical human anti- matriarchal tendencies. While I considered myself to have matured since I had joined the Alliance, I had trouble _not _picturing Liara wearing a set of Commando leathers. At least I was aware of my biases.

On this particular assignment, I decided to pilot the small shuttle to the surface myself. This allowed for a speedy insertion and a quick extract with as much room for the missing probe as possible.

"So, Shepard." Tali began, "What's this probe doing in the Voyager cluster? That's the opposite side of the Alliance from turian space."

"I don't know." I answered honestly. "It could have been recovered and brought here, or it might have just been horribly lost. Either way, we've got to get it back."

"Probes can get lost in relay networks for years." Liara added. "Though..."

"Though?"

"Though it does seem unlikely. Given the Alliance's technology. And the value of the payload."

It was quite possible salvagers or even mercenaries had stumbled upon the probe and attempted to extract its nuclear device. But the way I had figured it, if someone wanted to use the nuke, they would have done so by now instead of risking it being tracked and found. But I couldn't see this as a trap or an ambush either. If in the off chance someone knew this probe belonged to the Alliance, they would know how quietly and discreetly the situation would be handled. Why would you use a nuclear bomb to kill a small squad of soldiers when you could drop one on an unsuspecting planet. The whole situation was off.

"Well luckily I've brought along the _Normandy's_ top technical and archeological experts to figure out exactly what happened."

While Tali used the shuttle's tech suite to scan the area for large metal objects, Liara and I exited and took a look around. I couldn't see anything to indicate the probe was there, or had ever even been there.

Much of the surface of Agebinium is coated with fine silicate dust, which easily penetrates the smallest cracks to foul machinery, armour, and weapons. It is a miserable planet with high winds and a cold climate. The sky was constantly dark, and the stars barely visible through the blowing red sand. The only visible feature in the sky was the massive red giant Amazon, looming down at us. It made searching for this probe all the more difficult.

"So this is archeology, huh?" I said through my comm. "Gotta tell you. So far, I hate it."

She bent down to examine the dust and laughed. "It is a profession which requires equal parts patience, diligence...and luck."

"Patience – A minor form of despair, disguised as a virtue. Tali, any luck?"

"None. The scans are all coming back negative. It must have been moved."

The winds and the constant blowing dust made tracking anything nearly impossible...unless you had an eye for it.

"It was." Liara stated plainly as she motioned for me. "Look at the way the earth is indented here. There was something heavy lying on this spot. Judging from the wind erosion, it's only been a few days."

She got up and looked around. "Unfortunately, vehicle tracks would have blown away by now. We'll have to keep looking. I suggest scanning for camp sights or other forms of shelter. If someone wants to disassemble this device, it would be best to do it away from the wind and dust."

I don't think she saw me smile. "Tali, you get all that?"

"Roger, Commander. I'm way ahead of you. Got a lead on a mining facility a couple kilometers from here. Might be a good place to start."

"I don't even need to be here." I muttered to myself as we made our way back to the shuttle.

I was always careful not to expose my own doubts; I tried to project an image of absolute confidence and composure. But Liara and Tali were smart enough to figure things out on their own. They could put the pieces together, just as I had. There aren't many reasons for an individual, or a group of people for that matter, to bring a nuclear device into a deserted mine shaft.

"This is a trap. It's got to be." Tali stated.

I pulled out my weapon, and put QRF on five minutes notice to move. "They might not know what they have in there. We've got to get in before they set it off."

After confirming the door wasn't booby trapped, we entered and began the slow decent beneath the planet's surface. The air became heavy, warm, and moist. I felt my ears pop, and I noticed a strange smell in the air, an unfamiliar stench I imagined was a mixture of sulfurous gases mingling with alien molds and subterranean fungi.

I was sweating profusely beneath my body armor, and I kept having to reach up with a free hand to wipe away the fog condensing on my visor. I did my best not to think about what would happen if the doors opened and the enemy was ready and waiting for us on the other side.

The doors at the end of the shaft opened into a large antechamber-a natural cave filled with stalagmites, stalactites, and thick limestone columns. The artificial lights strung across the ceiling illuminated the entire chamber, reflecting off thick veins of glistening metallic ore in the cavern's countless natural rock formations. At the far end was a passage that served as the cave's only other exit, a long tunnel that wound around a corner and out of sight. It was completely deserted, save for the probe, about two meters in length sitting in the exact center of the room.

There was a loud blast and the ground beneath me shook. I stopped in my tracks, afraid to breath. Everything was wrong.

The shaft had caved in, leaving us trapped inside. I closed my eyes and let out a heavy sigh. I had walked us right into this trap. I had no signal on my comm net, the heavy metals in the mine blocking any signal to the _Normandy._ I fully expected to be enveloped by a bright white light at any second.

"The great Commander Shepard."

Instead I opened my eyes and came face to face with a projection of a human man. He had short, almost invisibly blonde, buzzed hair; pale skin, barely visible eyebrows, a wide set nose, all sitting on top of a thick neck and large framed body. He wore an eyepiece similar to the one worn by Garrus, and he held himself with an arrogance that made my fists clench.

"You seem to have me at a disadvantage, mister…"

"Haliat. Elanos Haliat." He smiled.

The one behind the Blitz. At the time of the Skyllian Blitz, Elanos Haliat was the most prominent criminal figure in the Terminus systems. He brought together pirate bands, organized, planned, and executed the assault on Elysium in an attempt to solidify his status as leader of a consolidated pirate syndicate. The Alliance, however, repelled the attack and Haliat was blamed for the failure. He lost his position, status, and retreated. Until now, so little was known about Haliat that most were unsure of even his race. Most had pegged him as Batarian because of his name (which was most likely a pseudonym), and his apparent grudge against the Alliance.

I was very surprised he was human, and did my best to hide it. My mind started racing with ideas to try to talk him down. But the man had lured me to him with a nuclear bomb. I was pretty certain of his intent. He was attempting to gain the favour of the Terminus pirate clans by killing me, humanity's first Spectre, using one of the Alliance's own weapons.

"It doesn't have to be this way, Haliat. We can talk this through." I said slowly.

"Empty words from a dead man." He activated his Omni-Tool. "Goodbye, Shepard." The projection went out, and the bomb suddenly came to life.

Ten seconds isn't a lot of time. But it can seem like an eternity. All three of us sprang into action, Tali taking charge and using her technical expertise to guide Liara and I as we simultaneously deactivated three separate, completely different fail-safes.

It was an out-of-body experience. Tali spat out directions faster than I've ever heard anyone speak and Liara moved with such composure you would have thought she'd been doing it her entire life. I simply kept chanting in my head 'slow is smooth, smooth is fast'.

With a solid three seconds left to spare, the bomb was deactivated, and we all started breathing again.

I patted Tali on the back, and wiped the sweat from my forehead. "Nice work."

"Goddess. That man is insane."

"An absolute psychopath." I agreed. "And, like most psychopaths, a narcissist. He's here. On this planet. Probably just outside. He wants to see his work completed."

"If we follow that tunnel, we should find an elevator that can take us out of here. Granted that seismic event didn't collapse the shaft." Liara said.

She was right. We found the elevator and passed the agonizing minutes with silence as it ascended, creaking and groaning as it went. I was glad to see the blowing dust and darkened sky of Agebinium as we exited the mine and I stalked to the edge of a cliff.

I pulled out my sniper rifle and observed fifteen or so mercenaries mulling around a few vehicles and a make-shift camp and caught sight of my shuttle.

"Son of a bitch stole my shuttle." I growled.

"Commander." Liara lay prone beside me observing through her own sights. "If you can provide a distraction, I can get down there."

"You mean flank them?" I confirmed. "I was just thinking that. Take Tali. The only one who will make a run for it will be Haliat. He's our priority." She made a move to get up and I grabbed her wrist. "Be careful. No unnecessary risks. You get into shit you throw up a barrier. QRF is already on its way."

She only nodded in response and she and Tali disappeared.

I was a quick enough shot I knew I would be able to take out a fair share of Haliat's merc detachment before Liara and Tali began to flank. And I knew that once I started shooting, I would be able to ID him quickly. He would be the one running for a vehicle, closely guarded by two or three mercs.

I scanned the area, noting placement, proximity to vehicles, and even weapon types before eventually settling on a sniper perched on top of a truck.

I take a deep breath, exhale, take in a second deep breath and squeeze the trigger. Exhale. Line switch to merc running for cover behind crate. Inhale, pull trigger. Exhale. Line switch to three mercs running tight together. My target must be hidden behind them. Inhale, squeeze trigger. Exhale. Line switch. Target acquired. Inhale. Aim for center of visible mass. Squeeze trigger. Exhale.

Fairly confident Haliat was down, I simply continued selecting targets of opportunity as they were presented to me, dropping each with one shot, sometimes two if their armour was heavy. Every once and a while a shot would zing past me, but I lay motionless, unfazed, in total concentration.

I noticed their attention shift away from me as Liara and Tali hit the field. Liara was one of those rare individuals capable of manipulating dark energy, the imperceptible quantum force that pervaded all the so-called empty space in the universe. Normally too weak to have any noticeable effects on the physical world, dark energy could be concentrated into extremely dense fields by biotics through mental conditioning. Asari were such powerful natural biotics, some didn't even require amplifiers. Liara is one of those individuals.

I watched as Liara thrust a clenched fist in the direction of a merc, and the air rippled as a wave of invisible dark energy surged out and over her adversary. The unsuspecting human was picked up off his feet and thrown backwards several meters, crashing into a heap against some heavy crates. Tali, on the other hand, used her shotgun with surgical precision, and soon the air was quiet.

I made my way down the cliff as Liara and Tali examined the scene.

"Commander." Liara was standing over Haliat. My round had gone clean through his armour, his body, and out the other side. The wound was right above his heart, and he was most certainly bleeding out.

"Thank, you Liara. You and Tali can begin recovering the probe. I will make sure Mr. Haliat gets the medical attention he needs."

She looked at me a long time before she left with Tali in tow. There was something I needed to do. For Will. For Stan, Digger, and Rob. For me.

I bent down and looked into his pale grey eyes. "There are two kinds of pain. The sort of pain that makes you strong." I unclasped his helmet, and removed it. "Or useless pain. The sort of pain that's only suffering."

"I have no use for useless things." He choked and gasped for air, blackness surely closing in on him. "Moments like this require someone who will act, do the unpleasant thing, the necessary thing." I held his head in both my hands. And snapped his neck.

"There." I said quietly. "No more pain."

"_Normandy_ this is Shepard. Sixteen enemy destroyed. All pers okay. Probe located, and being recovered. ETA to your location three-zero mikes."

_"Normandy _roger. QRF is five mikes out."

Was it right to kill Haliat? No. I should have given him first aid. But I don't regret it.

With the probe loaded onto the shuttle we made our way back to the _Normandy_.

Liara had performed well above my initial expectations. And she knew it. I was fully intent on taking advantage of her remarkable biotic talents as much as possible.

"Nice work out there today, Liara." I said sincerely. "I hope you're getting used to that armour, because you'll be wearing it a lot more often."

"Thank you, Commander. I was happy to finally prove myself."

"Liara. I think from now on, people are going to be proving themselves to _you."_

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**_A/N: _**_I need to mention the Ascention Novel by Drew Karpyshyn. Decent read. Some details abo__ut the biotics and asari__ lifted from there._**_  
_**


	21. Henny Penny

**A/N:** _I'm hoping the monstrous length of this chapter makes up for the lack of updates. Please continue to read and review! Almost at 100 comments...which might have been a goal..._

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I'm on my knees and there's a gun to my head. Not a situation I want to be in, but I've been here before. My attacker is afraid, and extremely agitated. He wants me to get on the ground, so I drop my weapon and slowly get on my knees. I raise my hands above my head, communicating to him I will be cooperative. It's either him or me.

"Shut the fuck up and get on your fucking face!" He screams.

I act afraid and submissive, turning my head away from his rifle and pleading for my life, bringing my hands to the tactical level of the gun. The more non threatening I am, the greater the chance he'll let his guard down, and make the mistake of getting too close.

There are two motions that are going to carry me out. First, is getting out of the line of fire, which is by far the most important. At the same time I'm going to isolate the weapon by grabbing hold of the barrel, and driving it away from me and toward the ground.

His first instinct is to pull away and I use his momentum to help me off my knees, and push the gun down. I strike him hard in the throat. Again in the head. He loses his balance and with my other hand I grab the butt of his rifle and yank it out of his grasp. I thrust the rifle into his face and he stumbles back. I shoulder the rifle and retreat.

"Bang!"

He falls to the floor.

"You're dead Alenko."

This demonstration accomplished a few things. It highlighted the importance of the buddy system. If Kaidan had a partner standing behind me holding a weapon to my back, it would have been much harder to disarm him. It also highlighted the importance of keeping your distance, and never underestimating your enemy. The second Kaidan felt threatened, he had the _right_ to end my life.

Of course, watching two officers beat the hell out of each other (in a controlled environment) is good for morale.

"Thank you, Commander." Said Ashley. "Of course, if Lieutenant Alenko had 'used the force', we'd be mopping you off the floor." Ashley took her place in the center of the floor as I helped Kaidan remove his protective gear. "If you'll all partner up, you can practice the disarm techniques we've worked on today."

Since Agebinium, Liara's interactions with most of the _Normandy's _crew had changed for the better. She ate all her meals in the mess, and when she wasn't researching prothean data discs uncovered by the ground team on various drops, she actually left her office now and then to visit the others down in the cargo bay.

When she approached me with an issue regarding a message she received from one Nassana Dantius, claiming her sister had been captured by pirates, I was more than happy to investigate.

The assault was textbook. We landed, quickly established an outer cordon with help from the Mako's main gun, breached the door to the main facility, and began clearing house.

I felt my heart skip a beat when the gun fire settled and I couldn't see any hostages. I figured I had killed them. However, after Tali had hacked their systems, we discovered that Nassana's sister was the de-facto leader of the pirate band we exterminated. After locating Dahlia's body, I had contemplated loading onto the ship, and bringing her back to her sister in person.

Liara had stopped me.

She had been played just as I was, however she pointed out that the 'ball was now in my proverbial court'. I had proof that Nassana Dantius, pretigious Citadel diplomat, had connections to piracy and slavery. We could use that to our advantage, somehow, or someday.

I was looking forward to discussing our options when I finally met her.

While the crew respected her experience on Agebinium and Sharjila, many still had difficulty reconciling her exceptional bitoic skill with the way she looked in Alliance PT gear.

Ashley moved about the room, observing the class and I approached Liara, who was conveniently partnerless.

"I hope you'll go easy on me." I said as I began strapping on my protective gear.

Her eyes widened, clearly surprised. "Oh Goddess. I believe you are a little far from my skill level."

"That's the great thing about Krav Maga. It's meant so even Kaidan's mother could beat me." I said loud enough for Kaidan himself to hear. I lowered my voice. "Liara, I know you know what it takes to survive the shock, fear and stress of a violent attack. But it's important to practice this way."

I said before that unarmed combat accomplishes the most important task of inoculating a soldier against overt, physical hostility. While many militaries use boxing matches to accomplish this, combative _sport_ is completely different from actual combat.

The stance of Krav Maga is maximum preparation for any situation. In mixed martial arts, or other combative sport, there are rules, guidelines, and referees. The most talented mixed martial artist or boxer could certainly kill you. However, there is a switch inside his head that is consciously turned off. It keeps him from killing his opponent when he is on the ground. It stops him from kicking him or stomping him to death, or using tools around him to inflict maximum damage or pain.

On the battlefield, there are no rules. There are no referees. It's do or die. You need to train enough so that switch in your head that tells you not to kill your opponent is off. Because you need to assume your enemy has done the same.

I had always emphasized realistic training when it came to unarmed combat. We were not training for competition, or sport; we were training to defeat a opponent who wants to injure, rape, or kill us.

Train as you fight, fight as you train.

I had trained with asari before. They move so fast and smooth it's almost like watching water dance. Fighting commandos hand to hand, I learned that even when I eliminated as much dead space between throws as possible, they were still just that much faster.

Asari fought hand to hand like they did on the battle field; by striking when they could, hard and fast, slowly wearing you down. Their weakness was in their inability to counter brute force. Study her tactics long enough and a lucky punch, well placed jab, or take-down could stun her enough to give you an advantage. Usually, they were unable to recover from it.

Liara was no commando, but she was pretty close. She was quick and calm as she sidestepped and landed a combination of kicks, then retreating to a safe distance.

I continued to move in towards her, being as violent as possible without actually hurting her. She continued her strategy of strike and retreat.

There is a belief that technology has eliminated the importance of hand to hand combat on the battlefield. It is mostly used as a tool to bring the necessary aggressiveness required of soldiers in a fight.

While entire battles may not be decided without conventional weapons, your life certainly could be. I've used my hands, rocks, knives, shards of metal, wood, broken pieces of a rifle, anything around or available to me to kill an opponent. Because in those seconds, it's you or them. And you'd better be prepared.

"Come on!" I yelled, and threw another punch. She blocked it and struck me in the face. I stumbled back. "Good." I smiled. "But, you just broke your knuckles. Use your elbow or the heel of your hand next time."

I had a drill instructor once tell me ,'your hands are fragile flowers'. Unless you are properly trained, you're more likely to shatter your fingers than you are to shatter your opponent's face.

"Little different from commando training?" I smirked, recalling our earlier conversation about her leathers.

"Yes, well, most commando sparring is done in the nude."

Before my jaw had a chance to hit the floor, I found myself on my back, the air knocked out of my lungs, staring up at the ceiling.

"How was that?" She stood triumphantly above me and offered her hand.

I took it and stood. "That's cheating." I coughed.

"I believe you humans have a saying? All is fair in love and war?"

"We say a lot of things."

We moved to some munitions crates and sat down. There was something I needed to discuss with her. But she started before I could.

"I must admit. At first I found it hard to take your species seriously. You seem in so much of a hurry. So rushed and high strung. But after spending time with you and your crew, I'm beginning to think of it more of an advantage."

I chuckled. "We don't exactly have the luxury of living for a thousand years. We've got to get it all done quickly."

"Unfortunately, most of the galaxy views you as somewhat of a bully."

I tilted my head and furrowed my eyebrows. "Me personally, or humanity as a whole?"

"Humanity." She clarified. "You humans are creatures of action. You pursue your goals with an indomitable determination. You don't seem to care if you step on those who get in your way." She took a swig of her water and looked directly into my eyes. "It's very intimidating."

"Do I intimidate you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You're fearless."

I laughed loudly and shook my head. Liara frowned and crossed her arms over her chest.

"No, I'm not. Trust me. I'm scared all the time. You scare the living hell out of me."

Her jaw dropped.

"I scare you?"

"Anyone who isn't scared of you is insane."

There was a silence as we both drank and let our heart rates return to normal. Liara toyed with her bottle and stared at the floor.

"I looked into your history." She confessed. "I wanted to know more about you." She looked at me with those eyes and I started sweating again.

Given who Liara was, I knew she would have done some research on me. She would have known about the events on Mindoir, Elysium, Torfan, and my other deployments. All of that was fine. I would have told her about it if she asked.

The reason I was starting to worry was because I was starting to feel something for her. Something beyond trust and acceptance. Something _other_. Something I was not at all familiar with.

"And what did you find?" I asked.

She swallowed hard and opened her mouth to speak and the cargo bay was suddenly drenched in red light. The alarm sounding in two short, quick blasts. A general call to stations. Our conversation would have to wait.

I was the first on the lift up to the CIC, and was greeted with a salute from Pressley the second I stepped out.

"Sir. Received a distress signal from Terra Nova. Comms are weak, but Tali was able to clear up part of their SOS broadcast. As far as we can tell, communications with the engineering team on the mining asteroid X57 have been lost. The fusion torches have reignited, and the asteroid is accelerating towards Terra Nova."

"How much time?"

"About five hours, sir."

X57 was a metallic asteroid, originally located at the trailing Lagrange point of the gas giant Borr. With the increased development on Terra Nova, a new orbital port facility was necessary. Due to a shortage of funding, it was decided to 'mine out' X57, using the recovered resources to finish out the interior for habitation. The asteroid would then be decelerated from Borr's orbit using fusion torches, allowing it to fall into the orbit of Terra Nova.

With the fusion torches accelerating, an asteroid about the size of Texas, would crash into a planet with about 4.5 million inhabitants.

From what little information we were able to gather, the asteroid was on a direct collision course for an ocean impact. Many, _many_ lives would be lost.

"Set a course immediately and try to establish comms with whomever you can."

"That's the thing, sir." Pressley approached me at the galaxy map. "We've been trying through every available means to communicate. We were only able to pick up their signal because of the new tech Tali installed."

My eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean their communications are being intercepted. All of them."

Pressley was an excellent XO. He understood the importance of making decisions on his own, and on a hunch, redirected our course to intercept a static signal he was receiving. The transmission we were picking up was likely coming from a local radio station based on the asteroid. That's how weak the signal was.

"There's an asteroid about to obliterate a human colony and, just as a coincidence, the entire planet is unable to request help?" I wanted to see if it sounded as absurd out loud as it did in my head.

"That's no coincidence." I turned to see Liara standing behind me. "They're under attack."

"Has the Alliance been informed?" I asked.

"Yes, sir. Fifth Fleet is aware however they're too far out. We're the only vessel close enough to respond. The planet is currently evacuating, however they only have enough transportation to evac about five percent of their population."

I let out a deep breath. "Set course immediately, engage stealth systems, run as quiet as possible for as long as possible. Put the ground team of thirty minutes notice to move. Orders in one hour, here."

He snapped off a salute and began barking orders at some junior officers.

I turned my attention back to Liara. "There is only one group of people who would even attempt something like this." I said, my voice low and dark. "This is batarians."

"A human colony is destroyed by its own mining asteroid. All the evidence with it. Humans are proven to be incapable of functioning at the same level as the rest of galactic society." She said softly. "Millions die and the human Alliance would be crippled by citadel sanctions for centuries. Shepard..."

I quickly gathered my thoughts and went through the list in my head. "Get your gear ready. It's all hands on deck for this one." I ordered. Liara quickly took off and I shouted for Pressley who was still barking orders to his subordinates.

"Get me any intel you can find about the facility! I want to know the layout of every building, I want to know their defense plan, their comms capabilities, I want to know what kind of screws were used to build the torches!"

"Sir!"

It took him all of ten minutes to call up all classified and unclassified data on X57, and I began a very reduced form of battle procedure.

Ideally, the Alliance tries to operate at a 3/1 force to enemy ratio in order to maximize effectiveness and ensure the greatest probability of success. Of course, this rarely occurs, however I would be required to use my entire ground team, minimizing my flexibility.

In training, you learn that the eighty percent solution that you devised quickly, was more effective than the one hundred percent solution that took too long to think up. Evaluate the factors, consider your options, think of your plan, and execute it. Make a decision. Any decision, because minutes count.

So I ran through it all in my head and extracted my tasks.

Situation enemy: an unknown number of suspected batarian terrorists have captured asteroid X57 and hijacked three guidance torches. _I have to shut down the torches._ They work in small teams of two or three, and possible section minus positions located at the torches themselves. _I need to assault all three objectives simultaneously so the others don't have time to react. I need more people. _They are equipped with various small arms, including rockets and recoilless rifles. _I also need rockets, grenades, flashbangs, heavy firepower. _Expect they have also hijacked the asteroid's turret defense network, which includes six turrets equipped with eighty-four millimeter rockets, two at each torch. _Take out the turrets first. Use Mako, Normandy main gun, rockets, sabotage, hack the defense network and shut them down. Yes._

Situation friendly: A team of eight civilian engineers was scheduled to depart the asteroid once it was safely within Terra Nova's orbit. The planet lost contact with them several hours ago. _Suspect they have been captured, or killed. Be prepared to deal with potential hostage situations._ One or more members may have escaped or eluded capture and was able to send the SOS signal. _Find the location of the transmission, open comms, trace intercept signal._

Mission: SSV _Normandy_ will disable X57's torches in order to prevent planetary impact no later than 1900 hours today.

I shouted again for Pressley and gave him a long list of items to draw from the ship's QM.

I needed to hit all three torches at the same time, possibly the main facility, and the source of the SOS transmission as well. I figured I could work in teams of two or three _max_. This concerned me, but the only other option was to split the team into fewer, larger groups, or maybe even one team, and risk alerting the enemy, eliminating the element of surprise.

Through experience, I've often found that one needs speed and security to accomplish a task, but can rarely achieve both. It usually comes down to choosing one over the other. If the goal is speed, you can't spend hours cordoning a building inside and out and spend literally hours clearing every single room. You sacrifice security.

You want security? Take the time, be meticulous, be thorough, but understand that speed doesn't come with it.

I needed speed. I had to sacrifice security and take the necessary risks that came with it.

Groupings and tasks were as follows:

'Alpha': Garrus and Tali. They would move to the source of the SOS signal originating from the top of a small hill. From there, Garrus could provide overwatch with his sniper rife on the three torches. Tali could disable the intercept signal and attempt to hack the hijacked turrets. Once complete, attach to Charlie.

'Bravo': Wrex, Pte. Dubyansky. Western most torch, known as objective _SALLY._

'Charlie': Garrus, MCpl Gladstone, Tali. Eastern most torch, known as objective _KARIN_

'Mako': Lt Kaidan Alenko in command, Pte. Tucks driving, Sgt. Chase gunning. Will remain at the release point (RP) providing overwatch and quick response to any and all torches. Be prepared to engage turrets. Be prepared to breach. Be prepared to dismount and conduct ground assault on any and all objectives. Support November 9er.

Call sign 'November 9er'. With the support of the Mako we would disable the northern most torch/main facility known as objective _FRANCIS. _It consisted of myself, Ashley Williams and Liara. Liara was still relatively untested in battle and I felt more comfortable having her accompany me. With her exceptional biotics, I was less worried than I should have been. And...with the involvement of the batarians, I also hoped having her there would prevent me from acting...irrationally.

There were a lot of moving parts, but with my orders finished and equipment distributed, I was confident everyone understood their roles.

We inserted via shuttle and Mako drop to the release point just south of the hill with the SOS signal. Each team moved to their respective lines of departure and waited for H hour. On H hour, each team would breech simultaneously and shut down the torches.

Garrus and Tali accomplished their task almost too easily, and the turrets were disabled. Unfortunately they discovered the body of a young woman who had been shot and burned; a trademark of batarian terrorists.

We had encountered zero resistance to this point indicating these terrorists were either terribly unorganized, or very small in number.

"I don't see anything." Ashley said quietly as we lay prone perched atop a rock a few hundred meters from the northern torch. "No guards, no cameras, nothing."

H hour in fifteen minutes and teams were set.

My ears caught the sound of an engine in the distance, and a few minutes later a six-wheeled ATV rolled up and came to a stop beside the shed. A half-dozen men got out; all were batarian. The door to the torch shed opened, and four of the figures unloaded a crate from the back of an ATV and carried it inside the main facility. The other two took up sentry positions beside the door.

I shook my head in disbelief as I relayed the contact info on the comm. Two men standing guard outside a building in the middle of nowhere. They had no cover; they were completely exposed.

I could recognize the insignia on their armour as members of the Grimm Skulls, one of many inconsequential security organizations operating in the area. They were small, adequately trained and moderately equipped. There was nothing here that could tie the hegemony to anything.

"You take the one on the right, I'll take the one on the left." I whispered to Ash, and counted down. Both sentries slumped to the ground. A more professional operation would have had someone on the inside periodically checking on the sentries, or they just wouldn't have left them out there in the first place.

It took us about ten minutes to clamber down from our perch on the rock face and approach the building's entrance in tactical column. The torch shed contained a small ante-room that opened into a larger chamber that housed the torch electronics and hardware. Further into the chamber, a tunnel connected it to the main facility.

I pressed myself against the door, listening carefully. Inside I could hear angry bickering. Dissention in the ranks? I pulled out a flash bang grenade and began to count silently to myself while Ashley reached up and punched in the access code on the panel. As the doors slid open, I tossed the grenade from my belt into the foyer. An instant after the blast, myself and Ash spun in through the door, clearing the corners first, rifles raised and ready to dun down any enemies inside.

The grenade had caused a secondary explosion from a fire extinguisher, and the entire room was filled with dense fog. You could barely see your hand in front of your face. I heard screams and the sound of gunfire as the terrified men inside panicked. Blinded, they started shooting wildly towards the door. For a full twenty seconds the echo of gunfire reverberating off the building's metal walls drowned out every other sound.

Before I could even get a shot off, I was pinned to the ground by a very heavy, very angry varen. I ducked my chin instinctively, certain the varen would go for my throat, and with my rifle thrown clear of my body I struggled to hold back its massive jaw with one arm, while I reached for my side arm with the other.

I shifted my efforts to reaching my gun and the arm holding back the varen faltered for an instant. I felt its jaw clamp down on my forearm and I screamed. The sudden shot of pain giving me enough energy grab my gun, plant it under the varen's muzzle and empty a full clip into it.

Its full weight lay lifeless on my body, its jaw still clamped around my arm, and I was stuck there until Ash and Liara found me.

"Napping on the job, Commander?" Ashley panted out as she knelt beside me and tried to unhinge the varen's teeth from my arm.

"Very funny." I croaked. "Now get this thing off of me."

I rolled onto my side and knelt, examining the wound. The varen had managed to puncture my hardsuit, and deep into my flesh. I winced as I touched the clean bite marks five sharp teeth had made.

Liara knelt beside me and applied medi-gel to the wounds. "You need to get these checked as soon as possible. Varen bites are toxic to your species."

"And yours." I reminded her.

"Yes, but I am not the one who has been bitten." She smiled and I examined the room. It was completely clear. Liara and Ash had taken down all four mercs in the room, and Ash was working on the torch. I had missed the fight.

Assault rifle in hand again, I made my way from body to body as I received a sit rep from each team. All three torches were disabled, and I had each team stay in position in case of a possible counter attack.

With the toe of my boot, I rolled over a batarian who had fallen near a crate, one half of his face was burned, the flesh crispy and brittle from an incendiary grenade Ashley had tossed. A small moan escaped from his lips, and his good eye fluttered open.

"Who...who are you?" He choked.

"A Spectre." I replied, standing over him.

"This...was all wrong." He coughed, spewing up dark phlegm that was mostly blood. "I...it was supposed to be a quick slave grab. Bal...Balak..."

He now had my full attention.

"Ka'hairal Balak?" I bend down beside him and saw him nod slowly.

"He…I didn't want this….please. Help me."

"Tell me where Balak is." I said softly.

"Main facility. He has hostages. Take this." His face was contorted in pain as he spilled out his words and with a shaky hand gave me a pass card.

At least he was trying to redeem himself. I prepared my omni-tool, intent on giving him a dose of medi-gel to ease the pain as he died. There was a very slim chance he would survive his wounds. I hesitated when I saw his eyes light up with relief. And I disabled my omni-tool.

"My sister burned to death, you know." I said to him, low enough so only he could hear. "The flesh beneath her face melted and fused her eyelids together. The smoke from the chemicals seared her lungs, but it wasn't the poison that killed her. She was in so much pain it was the shock that stopped her heart. Can you imagine that?"

He let out a choked sob in response and I stood, still peering down at him.

"I guess you can." I walked towards the tunnel to the main facility without looking back at the batarian desperately reaching for my help.

I now had a singular goal in my mind: get Balak.

It had been an easy fight to the main facility, encountering only two more mercs guarding the door to the entrance. Balak was expecting me.

He was standing at the back of the room, safely behind a shield generator a level above us. The room was large, circular, a second level accessed through a winding staircase in the center of the room, rigged to explode.

The entire place was wired with explosives. Not simple proximity mines, but countless ten-kilo detonation charges placed strategically around the room.

There were enough explosives here to vaporize everything inside. I knew right then and there, no matter what I said or what I did, this bomb would be detonated.

I started rushing through my options as I approached Balak, a scowl permanently plastered on my face.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance."

"It seems that way."

"Seems you broke your promise." He smiled. "I was forced into exile. Forced into begging and scrounging like an animal. Like all batarians! I'm doing this for them!"

I couldn't hold back my anger anymore. "Killing innocent humans proves nothing but your own cowardice!"

"You invaded our space, took our resources! You have killed just as many!"

"You want my attention? You got it."

He snorted. "We'll see if you can make good on your promise this time. I'm leaving this asteroid. This bomb is going off whether you save your friends or not."

"I will find you." I growled.

He cocked his head to the left. A derogatory gesture in batarian society. "I look forward to it."

The second he left a soft electronic beep made me focus my attention towards the small office that held seven of the eight missing engineers.

"Timer!" Ashley hissed, her voice raw with fear and nervous energy.

A second later it beeped again, and I know our fate would very likely be decided by the next order I gave.

In the split second between beeps my mind analyzed and evaluated the situation. The size of the blast from the explosives would be enormous, vaporizing anything in its path. It wouldn't be contained within the building either. We wouldn't be completely safe even if we got out.

There was a chance I could disarm the trigger before it went off. If I had enough time to find it. And if there wasn't a back-up. And if it was a manufacturer that I was familiar with. And if there weren't any fail safes built in to prevent manual overrides. Too many iffs.

"Grab the hostages and RUN!"

Responding to my order, we wheeled around and sprinted back down the halls the way we had come, pulling and pushing the civilian engineers with us, fully expecting to turn into ash at any second.

"Normandy!" I shouted into my radio. "Deploy the shuttle to FRANCIS, now! Immediate extraction! ASAP ASAP ASAP. All Stations! Evac to kilometer radius!"

We were racing through the halls as fast as we could run, slipping and skidding around corners in a desperate attempt to beat out the timer that could go off at any moment. There wasn't time to check for enemy ambushes; we just had to hope we didn't run into one.

We didn't and as we exited the building, I slammed into the shuttle so hard I was sure I would punch right out the other side. I didn't have a chance to close the door and the shuttle was already in the air, the civilians still pressing their breathing masks to their faces. I felt the concussion of the blast even as the shuttle flew towards the _Normandy._

All teams reported in and were all okay.

Everything was okay.

But once again, Balak was gone.

* * *

I sat in the med bay, watching Dr. Chakwas carefully wrap my arm in gauze, and turned away when she administered several needles to stop any infection the varen had given me.

"Fights off a varen with one hand and is still afraid of needles." She chuckled. "Stay here for ten minutes and then you can go."

I sat there for a few seconds, mulling through my past. Wondering if this situation could have been prevented if I had killed Balak on Torfan like I had wanted. Wondering what the consequences would be for not killing him again.

"Are you alright?" Liara's soft voice went right through me and I let out a heavy sigh.

"Yeah." I sat up straight and turned towards her. "I'm fine. How are you?"

"I am doing fine." She reached for my arm and looked at me requesting consent. I nodded and she gently examined the gauze. "This will leave a scar."

"One more for the collection I guess." I watched her eyes as they raked over my arm, eventually settling on a jagged scar on the palm of my hand, just below my thumb. Her fingers grazed over it.

"You have many." She said, as her eyes met mine.

"A few."

"From battles."

I let out a tired amused breath. "Not as many as you think." I pointed to the small scar on my chin. "My brother and I were playing catch with a bicycle pedal...we were young...and my sister called my name so I turned to look at her and the pedal hit me in the face."

A surprised laugh escaped her and she smiled. I smiled back and rubbed the trademark scar on the top of my head. "I usually tell people I got it in a bar fight."

"And the truth?"

My hand went to the back of my neck and I closed my eyes and sighed. "The truth is...I was eight years old, and I was cutting carrots, again under the supervision of my big brother. The knife slipped and I cut the whole pad of my finger off." I held up my left index finger and waved it. "Anyway, I looked down at the cutting board and saw the blood, and the tiny piece of flesh I cut off, and I got dizzy, and nauseous. And I passed out."

"Oh Goddess, you hit your head on the knife?"

"No. I hit my head on the door handle of one of the cupboards on the way down. My brother covered it with a wet cloth until my mom got home. I didn't cry until she reacted to all the blood on the floor." I started laughing at the memory. I hadn't told that story to anyone, I hadn't even thought about it in years.

She laughed with me and sat down on the bed across from me.

My expression faded into seriousness. "You said you wanted to know more about me?"

"Yes."

"I should have killed him. I almost killed him once before, and I didn't, and look what happened."

"You saved four million lives."

"They could have all died. We could have died." I paused. "You could have died."

"But I didn't." She smiled. "There is a school of thought that suggests an inverse function of the number of people affected by an act of given magnitude concentrates the effect. That is to say that when a calamity is spread across many faces, it is hard to feel anything more than numbed. But when a calamity is focused on a single few, it is easier to express feelings such as...anger. It seems Balak has done the same with you in mind."

I thought about it for a few seconds and slowly met her eyes. "What is it about you." I said, "that makes me feel like I've known you for so many years."

"Because I like you." She said, nothing but genuine sincerity in her tone. "And I don't want anything from you."

"Nothing?"

She seemed confused by my response. I stood up and straightened my uniform. "That's too bad." I said softly as I made my way out the medbay.

I still hadn't figured out how to tell her I had found her mother.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! I tried add my own touch, but I also enjoyed the way Sharrukin handled this moment. I've made it my own. But as always, props goes out to his influence.  
_

_Cheers._


	22. It's Cold Outside

**A/N:** _Wow. Got carried away again. I usually prefer bite sized chapters but I wanted to get all of this in. The bit on the extranet was taken from Drew Karpyshyn and his Novel Mass Effect: Revelations. I couldn't think of a better way to phrase it._

_Thank you to all those who have left comments and PMs! Your feedback is appreciated so very much. Please continue to read and review!_

_Cheers!_

* * *

The extranet consisted of a series of buoys placed across the galaxy that were specifically designed to enable real-time communication between systems. Information could be sent by a conventional radio signal to the nearest array of communication buoys. The buoys were telemetrically aligned with a similar array hundreds or even thousands of light-years away, connected by the tight beam projection of a mass effect field; the space-age equivalent of the fiber-optic cables used on Earth in the late twentieth century. Within this narrow corridor, signals could be projected several thousand times faster than the speed of light. Data in the form of radio signals could be relayed from one array to the next virtually instantaneously. Once the arrays were properly aligned, it was even possible to speak to someone on the opposite end of the galaxy with a lag of only a few tenths of a second. However, while the extranet's buoy arrays made communication possible, it still wasn't exactly feasible for the vast majority. Trillions of people on thousands of worlds were accessing the extranet every second of every day, overloading the finite bandwidth capabilities of the com arrays. To accommodate this, information was sent in carefully measured bursts of data, and space in each burst was parceled out in a highly regulated priority system. Top priority in each burst was given to organizations directly responsible for preserving galactic security. Next came the various official governments and militaries for each and every species in Council space; then the assorted media conglomerates. Anything left over was parceled off and sold to the highest bidder.

Virtually all of the unused space on every burst was purchased by extranet provider corporations, who then divided their allocated space into thousands of tiny packages that were resold to individual subscribers. Depending on the provider and how much an individual was willing to pay, it was possible to get personal updates from hourly, daily, or even weekly bursts.

Not that I had to be concerned about any of that anymore. As an Alliance officer and the first human Spectre, my private extranet account received official bursts every fifteen minutes. Piggybacking personal messages onto the official bursts was one of the perks of my rank and status.

I had exhausted every single official means available to me, and still came up empty handed. Everything about Matriarch Benezia's activities outside of official asari politics had been intentionally purged. Fortunately, there were other ways to dig up buried secrets. Data could be purged, but not truly erased. Once it was out there, it was out there…forever. There are always echoes and remnants to find.

Trillions of tetragigs of data were transmitted in bursts across the extranet every day; I figured there had to be something useful buried in there. But searching a functionally infinite amount of data for a specific piece of information could be an exercise in pointless frustration. It would take days to collect, process, and scan every burst...and even then the output might be millions and millions of pages of hard copy.

That's where information brokers came in-specialists who used complex algorithms and custom-designed search engines to limit and sort the data. Mastering the extranet was as much an art as a science, and information brokers excelled at the art of gathering confidential information.

I sat at my desk staring blankly at the one message waiting for me in my inbox. The address was unknown, but I figured it was from one very fast-talking, very expensive salarian information broker I had hired on our last trip to the Citadel.

I opened the message and just as expected, it only contained a single word.

Noveria.

Another goddamn ice world.

* * *

Liara took the news either very well or very poorly, depending on how you look at it. She had expected we would track her mother down sooner or later and had adequately prepared herself mentally for the eventuality. She became a little more withdrawn, pouring over her notes and her own research as we made our way to Noveria. I tried to keep her distracted, a skill I have not yet perfected to this day. Once Liara has her mind on something, good luck trying to pry it off.

My biggest concern was gaining clearance to dock at Noveria. More specifically, Port Hanshan which was home to over two dozen major high technology companies (including Binary Helix, Elanus Risk Control Services and Synthetic Insights). Noveria is actually owned and operated (for lack of better terms) by the Noveria Development Corporation (NDC). An Executive Board of Governors represents its interests and is essentially responsible for its governance. Because it is a privately chartered colony with no input from any Citadel race, it's not legally a part of Citadel space, which also means it doesn't _legally_ need to abide by its laws.

The NDC does however allow Spectres special privileges, but are able to create all kinds of administrative barriers if they believe investigations will hamper research or cause problems for NDC investors; which of course most investigations are like to do.

After an escalating back and forth between the _Normandy_ and Port Hanshan docking authority, I was able to dock for 'critical maintenance requirements'. Tali almost killed me when I instructed Adams to intentionally overheat the drive core.

Port Hanshan Authority didn't know _Normandy_ was a prototype and could run at such levels, so rather than risk a massive explosion that could destroy some of their off-world facilities, we were allowed to dock.

After further back and forth on the ground, including one Japanese-Mexican standoff, I was able to secure passage for myself and Liara thanks to one very audacious administrative assistant by the name of Gianna Parisini. Tall, dark, and by most accepted standards very attractive, Gianna sat casually behind her desk dressed like she was ready to attend the opera. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and she wore a subtle amount of make-up, a shiny gloss on her lips which made it difficult to focus on anything other than the words coming out of them.

"Apologies for the confusion, Commander Shepard. We don't see many Spectres around these parts, nevermind _human_ ones."

"I've been getting that a lot, actually." I said.

"To what do we owe your visit?"

"You don't believe repairs?"

"Not for a second." She smirked.

Something about the way she smiled told me there was more to her than met the eye. She was trying to tell me something without saying it. "I'm looking for an asari Matriarch. Benezia T'Soni. She would have passed through here a few days ago."

She shuffled some papers on her desk. "Ah. Yes. Lady Benezia. She departed for the Peak 15 research facility days ago. To the best of my knowledge, she's still there."

I watched Liara tense and her breathing hitch.

I started to stand. "That's where we need to go then."

"You'll need a pass to leave the port." Gianna added quickly. "And with the storm, all air transport has been grounded. The only way to reach the facility is via ground transport. And you'll need a separate pass for that. Liability and all."

I took my seat again slowly. "I'm guessing I can't just purchase one from you right now, can I?"

She smiled and leaned forward on her elbows. "You'll need to speak with Administrator Anoleis. He has the authority to grant passes, as well as transportation. You won't be able to use your own. Only NDC verified vehicles are allowed on the premises."

"Wonderful." I said dryly.

"Administrator Anoleis is available now, if you'd like to see him. In the mean time, I've taken the liberty of having you weapons and armour sent to your hotel. They'll be stored in the strong-box there."

I rose again and shook her hand before guiding Liara over to the window, where the storm raged outside.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to leave our weapons?" She asked quietly.

"No. But their policy is to fire on _anyone _carrying weapons other than ERCS guards. And we don't want to draw any more attention to ourselves. It's better to just go along with their policies for now." I replied. "After all, you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar."

"Why would anyone want to catch flies." I heard her mutter as I made my way to Anoleis' office.

As expected, I yielded no results from speaking with Anoleis; a very anxious, very annoyed salarian more interested in getting me out of his office than anything else. I exited his office completely frustrated, gathered up Liara, and proceeded to check in to my hotel room. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you look at it) the Hanshan Heights Hotel, the only hotel on site, was booked solid due to the storm, and Liara and I had to share a room.

When the desk clerk handed me a message, I invited Liara to the hotel bar.

"What type of beverage do you desire?" The bartender asked, his voice wheezing through the rebreather and the folds if skin at his throat. While turians reminded me of hawks or falcons, the volus reminded me of manatees: slow, lumbering, and almost comical.

I turned towards Liara who was in the mood for something stronger than wine. "Elasa please." She said softly.

"Make it two." I added.

Our glasses returned full of a pale green liquid, and Liara cracked a smile as I examined it intently, and took a tentative sip.

The drink was sharp and cold, but not exactly unpleasant. The lingering aftertaste was strong, and markedly different from the first sip. It was a bitter flavour, with an undertone of tangy sweetness. I turned to Liara and tipped it towards her.

"Poignant." I said, attempting to describe the drink in one word.

"Not bad." She said, taking another sip and setting it back on the table. She took a breath and looked at me with a tinge of concern. "What are we doing here, Shepard."

My eyes scanned the room, looking for anyone possibly showing interest in our presence. I finally settled on a familiar face. Gianna Parisini, now dressed in simple casual clothing strode purposely towards us. "We're finding a way to your mother." I answered.

"Glad to see you realize you can't bludgeon your way through bureaucracy, Commander." She said confidently as she took the extra seat at the high round table.

"Experience has taught me I'd have better luck slamming my head against that wall over there." I replied. "Tell me who you really are."

"Name stays the same, but the title changes. I'm Gianna Parisini, Noveria Internal Affairs. I believe we can help each other."

"Give me the short version, please."

"I've been trying to nail Anoleis to the wall for corruption for months. Recently he accused a turian, Lorik Qui'in of the same thing. He still has clearance to the Synthetic insights office. If you can get evidence on Anoleis from that office, and convince Qui'in to testify, I'll get you to Peak 15."

"Done." Liara answered before I could even consider the terms.

"Excellent." Gianna smiled. "Get the evidence and Qui'in, and there will be a truck ready for you to drive to Peak 15. I can't give you a driver, but I'll make sure there are enough supplies. It's about a two-hour drive to the facility. And once you're there..."

"What?" I urged.

"Peak 15 has a safety system called Code Omega which is activated if there is a critical containment failure. The facility shuts off power, hoping the cold will deactivate or kill any escaped experiments. Lady Benezia arrived at Port Hanshan shortly after a Code Omega was declared."

Liara tensed again and leaned back in her chair. "If too much time has passed, the executive board votes whether or not to destroy the facility from orbit, with an antimatter warhead from one of the orbiting battle stations." She said quietly.

I did my best to reassure her. "We'll get there before that happens. Promise." She tried to smile.

"The executive board doesn't sit until the end of the week. That gives you about three days." Gianna added. "I've left an envelope for you at the hotel with instructions. It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Commander." This time, Gianna rose, and shook my hand and left. Liara and I made our way to our shared room; our situation made all the more awkward by the single bed contained therein.

"I'll take the floor." I said, throwing my duffel on the ground and grabbing an extra pillow from the closet. Liara had been quiet the entire time.

"Let me go to Synthetic insights." She blurted, still standing at the door. "I'll talk to Qui'in, I'll get the evidence."

It took me a second to process her sudden request, and another second to realize it wasn't a request at all.

"No. Not alone." My voice stern.

"Yes alone. Everyone in this place knows who you are. You draw too much attention; it'll be easier if I go. I can get in, get the evidence, and get out."

"You've got to convince Qui'in." I reminded, hoping to dissuade her.

"I can be persuasive." She countered.

I sat down on the bed and ran my hand over my head. "I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it." I hate it when she's right.

My head and my heart were screaming, 'no, don't.' But she was right. I draw too much attention. Everyone in this place would be watching my every single move. Liara could work unobstructed, especially if I were drawing attention elsewhere.

A long silence passed. "Thirty minutes." I eventually muttered. "Not a second more."

"An hour."

"Forty five and that's it!" I raised my voice a little, and couldn't help but smile when I saw the look of triumph on her face. I stood and walked over to her, and leaned against the wall. "I'm going to be close by. The second my watch goes past that mark, I'm taking a rocket launcher up there. Stay on the comm., I want constant sit reps."

"I'll be fine." She said gently and opened the door. "Trust me."

"You're bringing a gun." I didn't care where she hid it.

* * *

The next forty minutes were excruciating. I couldn't keep my mind off Liara and all the different ways this task could go awry. But I had to trust her.

While waiting in the Mezzanine, I tried my own hand at corporate espionage, only to discover I'm incredibly bad at it. I was minding my own business at the bar when I was approached by a young asari in a bright yellow dress. Not one to refuse a young lady a drink, we started chatting and I discovered she worked for the Armali Council, and was interested in obtaining information on Binary Helix.

She wanted me to plant a monitoring virus on the personal wireless network of a Binary Helix employee. I guess I don't have the stomach for it, and I told my 'mark' about the con. He thanked me and began feeding the device false material. _Then_ told this to the asari in the yellow dress.

I figured it would be a greater punishment than the typical white collar slap on the wrist.

Forty one minutes and fifty six seconds later, Liara stepped off the elevator and made her way towards me, her expression giving nothing away. I didn't say a word as I followed her and she slipped an OSD into my hand.

At the hotel I placed the OSD in an envelope for Gianna to retrieve from the front desk. Thirty minutes later I received a text message on my omni-tool:

_Shepard,_

_Thank you for your assistance. As promised, a garage pass and rental vehicle will be made available to you. Visibility will be greatest at midnight. _

_Travel safe,_

_GP._

It was Gianna's way of telling me when to leave. ERCS guards change shift at midnight, and there would be a momentary lapse in security, allowing Liara and I a brief reprieve from questioning authorities.

Back in the hotel room, I resolved to get a couple hours of sleep before our departure time and set up my sleeping bag on the floor. Liara took the small double bed, and turned out the lights. I heard the bed sheets rustling as she stripped out of her clothes, and I added to the noise by doing the same inside my sleeping bag.

"Are you sure you don't want the bed?" She asked sincerely.

"No, I'm fine. Slept on much worse than a carpeted floor."

I heard her sigh and adjust her position, pulling the blankets over her body. "I'll never understand humans."

I strained to look up to where she was on the bed, her back to me. "What do you mean?"

"For a species who engages rather actively and enthusiastically in sexual activity, you all seem to have deep seeded issues with nudity and physical proximity."

"Well it's..." Careful what you say here. "It's not usual for two friends of the opposite sex to share a bed." In asari culture, sharing is a gesture of friendship. Asari share resources with their closest friends and families. Sometimes, this includes sleeping arrangements. In my attempt to be respectful towards Liara, I may have inadvertently offended her.

She flipped around and looked down at me. "My species is monogendered. Male and female have no real meaning to us." She adjusted her pillow and stared up at the ceiling. "We still require a partner to reproduce, though the partner can be from any gender of any species. Although, 'mating' is not really the proper term to use. Physical contact or even presence is not required. The true connection is mental. Our physiology allows us to meld with other individuals. We explore the genetic memory of their species, we share the most basic elements of their individual and racial identities." She was talking as if she were explaining these facts to a room full of students. Only I was the only student, and I was half naked and lying on the floor.

Liara spews information like a geyser when she's nervous. I let a few seconds of silence lapse between us and I could hear her breathing change.

"We're going to find her Liara." My voice was low and quiet.

"None of this makes any sense." She turned again to face me. "I haven't seen her in so long, but I know her. She would not ally herself with Saren if she knew...if she knew his purpose. Something has changed in her."

There wasn't anything I could say to make her feel better, I knew. I hoped that when we reached Benezia, she could be reasoned with, I could discover what _exactly_ Saren's intentions were, why he was using the Geth, and what any of this had to do with the Reapers. I had a million questions and I was hoping beyond hope that Benezia could answer even just one.

"Just...try to get some sleep." I said softly. "We've got a long day ahead of us."

She tried to force a smile and turned her back to me, huddling into herself as she tried to find sleep.

Three hours of tossing and turning later, I was switching the light on to find Liara lying wide awake and ready to go. We made our way to the garage like Gianna had advised and found our armour, weapons, and a fully kitted truck ready and waiting for us. The unfortunate part was that the truck itself was not heavily armoured, nor was it equipped with any kind of weapon system. The six-wheeled APC was batarian in design, loaned to me by local authorities at the 'request' of the Council.

It was good enough to get us from A to B. So we dressed in our armour, and covered ourselves in winter clothes. Armoured hardsuits are fantastic pieces of kit, however in desert, and extreme winter conditions, snow or sand can become lodged in the gears and mechanisms and cause the suit to seize.

In a climate like Noveria, where temperatures can range from mild to freezing in a matter of hours, winter clothing is essential in order to prevent the hardsuits from failing.

Arctic and winter operations are exceedingly difficult. Your gear weighs more, your movement is slower, cumbersome, and requires more energy, dehydration occurs often and quickly, calorie intake is more difficult, and hypothermia is a constant concern. Winter ops rely very much on the buddy system.

Liara sat up front with me while I drove the APC into the night. The vehicle's IR and thermal imagers were almost useless in the weather, and I was driving on a mix of instinct, and radar readouts, and mapping tools. I kept the headlights off completely in order to minimize detection. Not like they would have help anyway in that blizzard. With the weather, I figured our two hour drive would actually be about four or five.

I tried to put myself in Liara's shoes. Tried to make myself feel what she would have been feeling right then. Going to confront her mother, accused of treason on a galactic level, and hoping that none of it was true. Hoping she could be reasoned with. There was a slim chance, and it was something I had to hold onto. For Liara's sake, at least.

We were about half way to Peak 15 when I was startled out of my maudlin thoughts by screaming sensors. I remember saying 'shit' very calmly before I wrenched the wheel and veered us sharply off course, nearly flipping the vehicle in the process. We swerved and nearly spun out as I began taking evasive action against a rocket attack. Multiple rocket attacks. We were being engaged on all sides, I had driven straight into the heart of an ambush.

SOP in an ambush is to push as far and as fast as you can in order to get out of the 'X'. I was doing my frantic best to avoid the shells launched from stationary turrets, sending our APC careening haphazardly over banks and into small valleys to keep the turrets from getting a lock. True to its name, the APC was somewhat armoured, but it was just a transport, it wasn't meant for combat. The armour was designed to sustain impact from mines and small arms fire. Anti-tank rockets like the ones being hurled at us would slice through like butter.

Liara was shouting into the comm, trying to warn the _Normandy_ of the situation, but all we got back was static. We were on our own, in the dark.

We flew over top of another bank as a shell exploded and propelled us forward a full ten meters before we crashed heavily back to the ground. The shocks absorbed most of the blow, but even being belted in, the top of my head slammed against the ceiling and I felt my helmet crack. Liara wasn't faring much better. She was holding on desperately as she smashed into the dash, ceiling and window.

I hunched closer to the wheel and slammed my foot on the gas. Gotta get off the X, gotta get off the X. To this point, neither of us had said anything. We just held our breaths. Another rocket exploded above us and took out our sensors. I flipped on the headlights, they already knew where we were, and I needed to see something. visibility was near zero, and I had no chance to stop what was about to happen.

The distance between the APC and an enemy turret closed in a millisecond, and all we could do was brace for impact. The blunted nose of the APC slammed into the front left side of the turret, a glancing blow instead of a direct hit. But it was enough. The turret erupted in flames, and the APC crumpled in like an accordion. We flipped and rolled half a dozen times before coming to rest upside down. I must have blacked out in the thick of it.

I felt Liara fumbling at my seatbelt. The vehicle had stopped moving but the world continued to spin. I felt a sharp pain in my leg and reached out with my hands, pressing them firmly against the inverted roof so I wouldn't fall and hit my head once I was loose. Liara grunted in pain as she tried to pull me out from one of the windows. She was clutching her left arm.

As the blood rushed away from my head, the world slowly came back into focus. I realized we were no longer under contact. The crash must have launched us safely away from the road. My helmet was cracked and causing pain so I removed it and threw it to the side. Liara had done the same, and was spitting out blood. She had clamped down on her tongue during the crash.

I rolled away from the wreckage and crouched on the ground beside Liara.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "Can you walk?"

She nodded. "I think I dislocated my shoulder."

I thought for a second, then said. "I'm sorry for this, Liara." She was about to ask me for what when I grabbed her by the wrist and collarbone and yanked hard on her arm. She screamed a few words my translator couldn't pick up, and nearly passed out as I popped her shoulder back into place.

"Goddess" She mumbled flexing her fingers, trying to work the numbness out of them. "Thank you." She added a second later.

"No problem. But you get to have some revenge." I motioned to my left leg, where a large piece of metal had lodged its way into the meaty part of my thigh. "We don't have a lot of time. So what I want you to do is yank it out, cauterize with your omni-blade, and slap some medi-gel on it. We have to get out of here before the Geth arrive, and I can't walk with this."

I winced through the pain and sat down, grabbing onto her good shoulder as she knelt beside me. "I don't know if I can."

"You've got no choice." I breathed out heavily. "Please. Do it quick. We've got to go."

She cut away my winter clothing and removed the armour and I yelped when I felt her hands grasp the shard. One hand on her shoulder, and the other fisting my hand in the snow, she waited for me to take a few deep breaths and look away before she yanked out the jagged piece of metal. I screamed, felt instant relief at the removal of the foreign object, and then nearly passed out when I felt the searing heat burning my flesh clean. I relaxed again when the cool, numbing sensation of medi-gel hit.

After a few seconds, I stood with Liara's assistance, and started digging through the wreckage. Most of our gear had been thrown free, but I managed to find my day bag amongst the carnage. In there I carry my sleeping gear, a change of socks and underwear, a change of gloves, a face mask, 48 hours of rations, and all spare ammunition.

"So what now?" Liara asked, clearly shaken by the events that had just conspired.

"Now, we walk." I replied. "We stay of the roads. If we can find the mountain pass we should be fine."

It was nearly pitch dark, and the blizzard was causing such poor visibility I took a strap from the overturned APC to create a tether between Liara and I. In the dark and blowing snow, it would be too easy to lose each other.

After two hours of trudging though the snow we were a little closer to Peak 15, and we had found the mountain pass. The storm wasn't getting any better and I had been looking for possible camp sites the entire way. At around 4am, we came across a sheltered cove in the mountain side, and I suggested we stop. I could tell Liara was relieved.

I tore up a ration package to start a small fire, but looking around the cove, there was little to sustain it. A fire wouldn't keep us warm, and we had both been sweating profusely from the long climb up the mountain side. Liara was already starting to shiver.

"Take you armour off. Take your under clothes off and get in the sleeping bag." I said panting.

I draped our clothes over the hardsuites and weapons, trying to control my own shaking. On Sidon, when Stan threatened to die from hypothermia, two of us had crawled into his sleeping bag, naked, in order to save his life. When you sweat, you freeze. And when you freeze, you die. The only way to dry your clothes without a fire in an arctic climate is to leave the wet garments outside, let them freeze, and smack off the ice in the morning. It's not a great wake up call, but it beats dying.

Shaking, I crawled into the sleeping bag with Liara, wearing only my boxers. I pressed my body against her back, trying to give and take whatever warmth was available before I pulled my ranger blanket from the bottom of the bag, and wrapped it around us.

"So what was that you were saying about physical closeness?" I asked, shivering.

She laughed and tried to stop her body from shaking. It was getting warmer. "I stand corrected."

"I brought your socks. If you wrap them around your neck, they'll be dry and warm in the morning." I managed to say. "I've got our ration cooking."

She tried to turn to look up at me. "Cooking?" She asked tentatively.

"Soldier's trick." I replied. "I've got them under my armpits."

For the first time, we both laughed at our situation together, before trying to settle down for a few hours of sleep. Come morning, we'd finish the walk and enter the Peak 15 facility.

Without thinking, I reached for her hand and tucked it against her chest, feeling that was where it should be.

My heart slammed against my ribs. She had to have felt it.


	23. All Too Familiar

I had been lying awake for several minutes, just tempted to stay there a while more. My body was sore from sleeping on the cold, hard ground, my leg was throbbing, and my head was pounding from the lack of fresh oxygen in our little cocoon. But I didn't want to move. I was completely wrapped around Liara; one arm still holding her hand to her chest, and the other acting as her pillow. It didn't matter that it had gone numb.

I liked the way her skin felt against mine. I liked the way I could feel her chest softly rising and falling with each breath. And I liked the way that even though she was awake, she wasn't moving either.

A little light was shining through the sleeping bag and I reluctantly moved my hand away from hers and pulled the sleeping bag back. The cold air was like a punch in the face, but a welcome one. I needed to get up and moving. It was going to be a very long day.

Liara began to stir as well and when she noticed I was doing my best to wiggle out of the sleeping bag while trying to keep her in, she offered to get our clothes instead.

"No." I quickly told her, pulling myself out of the warmth we had created and stretching my back. "I need the fresh air." I really did. Fresh, _cold,_ air.

I shook off the ice and grunted and groaned while pulling the frozen garments back over my body. While I redressed my wound, Liara dressed inside the sleeping bag and ate half of the ration pack I had kept warm over night.

"Are you aware that you talk in your sleep?" She asked, handing me the rest of the mostly cold beans and wieners breakfast ration.

I furrowed my brows as an answer. "No…what was I saying?" This could get very awkward.

"I don't know." She said strapping on the last of her armour and packing the sleeping gear away. "My translator wasn't picking it up, so at first I thought it was gibberish. But you were repeating a word over and over again." She stopped and looked at me. "You were afraid."

I finished the ration and stuffed the garbage into a pouch in my day bag. "I've been having nightmares since Eden Prime." I said carelessly. "I don't remember any dreams from last night though."

"Shepard…I think you were speaking _Prothean_."

I opened my mouth to protest, but closed it again as I considered her theory. The beacon had transferred such a _vast_ amount of information directly to my brain; I hadn't considered how exactly it had affected me. It had altered my brain waves, it had altered my subconscious, it had altered _me._

"Does this mean you're going to watch me sleep from now on?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

Liara's eyes got very wide, then narrowed once she realized I was teasing, and I had successfully shut down further questions on the beacon.

"Come on." I said, throwing the bag over my shoulders and tethering us together. "We've got about twelve kilometers to go."

The next several hours were brutal. Although the weather had eased up slightly, making visibility a little better, walking through the snow uphill without snowshoes was painfully slow. My muscles ached, my lungs burned, and my leg continued to throb. Through all this, it was getting colder the further up the mountain we climbed, and we still had no comms with the _Normandy._ By now, they would be scanning the area in an attempt to locate us, and I knew Pressley would be devising a plan to get the Mako or the shuttle deployed. Eventually, the cavalry would arrive. I hoped.

When Gianna had informed me that Code Omega had been activated, it gave me several new access points. The mountain pass wound its way up Peak 15, and accessed a ventilation shaft large enough for Liara and I to sneak through. This particular shaft was used for venting highly noxious chemical gasses that couldn't be filtered and recycled, and therefore needed to vent. If the power to the facility had been active, Liara and I would have died very horribly.

Fortunately, neither of us were claustrophobic as we spent nearly an hour crawling on our stomachs though the darkened shaft. Unfortunately, we had to stop before reaching the lab-proper as it had been sealed off, likely as a fail-safe. A few more twists and turns and we arrived above a cafeteria and used my omni-tool to cut a hole through the vent shaft.

It was cold, but at least sheltered somewhat from the wind. Light peaked its way through the large, shattered, picture window and blowing snow had covered most of the floor and even the furniture.

There were no signs of life. No bodies, or blood, or anything to indicate what had caused the room to look like a tornado had ripped through it. Liara and I cautiously looked around, listening to the wind howling and whistling outside, and the sounds of our boots over broken glass and snow inside. I raided a vending machine to supplement our rations and took a look at the facility map posted on the wall.

We needed to get the facility powered up, and take a tram to Rift Station where the Hot Labs and any survivors would be.

I saved the image of the map on my omni-tool and we exited the cafeteria into an office/laboratory of sorts where more of the same destruction waited for us. Again, all we could hear was the wind whistling outside. I was waiting for something bad to happen. I had that feeling in my gut that something would be waiting for us around the corner, but every time I peaked my head around, there was nothing.

Then shrieks that stopped us in our tracks and made my blood run cold. Animalistic cries, almost like the sound a pig makes when it's dying.

_Move your feet._ I called up my omni-tool and scanned for signs of life. Still nothing.

Then I could hear movement. All around us. In the walls and the ceiling. I started breathing faster, my heart beat like a drum. _What the hell is in here?_

My attention was immediately drawn to the office on our left where a massive creature burst its way through the floorboards. Imagine a four-foot cockroach sitting on a spider's body with feelers stretched out nearly seven feet, accompanied by thin tentacles ending in sharp little pods.

I turned and fired a burst and the thing exploded dark green goo all over the room. My toxic sensors went wild and we were forced to retreat from the area. The room suddenly smelled like bile and I held back the urge to vomit. Among the sharp, acidic stench making its way through my nostrils, I caught the scent of burning metal and looked down at my left arm. The green substance was _burning_ its way through my greave. I instantly unlatched it and tossed it to the ground. Liara approached it to examine further.

"I have never seen anything like this, expect for...molecular acid." Liara said, turning over my greave with the muzzle of her SMG.

"It must be using it for blood." I concluded, a little less panicked.

"It has a wonderful defense mechanism. You wouldn't dare to kill it."

We continued down the hall towards the VI processing core, my mind working over the possibilities of what those animals could be. Every once and a while we would hear a shriek or a scuttle and prepare for another fight. They were incredibly hostile, but surprisingly easy to kill. It was almost as if their main defense was suicide.

"Once we get the power back up we can hack the system and find out what the hell these things are."

"I would suspect the data has been backed up to an offsite facility, and subsequently purged...they almost seem like…." She shook her head trying to rid the thought from her mind. "No…it can't be."

I stopped and moved closer to her. "What?" I urged. I already had a feeling of what her answer would be.

"Rachni." She said slowly. "It seems…impossible. But, these creatures are intelligent. They're adapting to our presence. You can hear them re-grouping. They're testing us for weakness. Prodding our defenses. The fact that the cold hasn't killed them speaks to their resilience. I've studied them in books and vids…this is them. The Rachni exist." She let out a deep breath. "I never thought those words would come out of my mouth."

Neither did I.

It was probably too much to hope that once we reached the VI core there would be a giant on/off switch that just needed to be switched 'on'. Not so. After several tense hours of hacking, rewiring, and occasionally gunning down charging rachni, Liara and I had finally reconnected the power and accessed the VI. I almost wished I hadn't.

Talking to this machine was testing the limits of my physical and mental strength. Without proper clearance, I couldn't locate the source of the contamination, the location of any survivors, or the grid to power up the tram station.

Liara and I were forced to double back through the increasingly hostile office area to hack a computer system to obtain an employee code. Once the VI was satisfied with our new false identity as a floor supervisor, we were able to confirm the contamination source was from the hot labs, and we could only get there via tram. Which still needed to be powered.

The rachni were learning. They were constantly probing our defenses, attacking first as individuals, then in pairs, and at one point they had actually tried to _flank_ us. Thanks to Liara's biotics, we successfully repelled all attacks. The unfortunate part was, the constant hostile activity was starting to take its toll, and Liara and I were beginning to wear down. The need to power the tram and get to Rift Station was getting increasingly urgent.

Hungry, tired, and stressed, Liara continued to impress me. At one point, while she was busy fiddling with the tram power grid I had yelled for her to duck down while I engaged one of the scuttling rachni. As usual, a few rounds to the mid section had caused it to explode corrosive blood all over the area, increasing the stench and making work all the more difficult. After all of this, Liara had simply remarked: "Pity. I would have liked an intact sample after all of this." And returned to work.

Thankfully, through sheer ingenuity and determination, Liara and I powered up the tram, and boarded to Rift Station.

When in doubt, rack out.

Liara and I took turns sleeping every twenty minutes or so whenever we could get a chance. The tram ride lasted about forty minutes and gave us a chance to settle down, have a bite to eat, and mentally prepare for the next stage.

I felt sick, exhausted, worn down, and yes, afraid. But all of that was pushed aside because Liara was my 'battle buddy'. I made sure she slept, and ate, and stayed alive. And she did the same for me.

I knew the second we exited the tram, that something was wrong. We came across multiple hasty booby traps; turrets aimed away from us, proximity mines scattered throughout narrow corridors on the floors, walls, and ceilings, barrels of noxious chemicals rigged to explode. When we finally reached the end of the hall I was not surprised to find that the elevator to the central facility had been disabled. Not taking any chances, I scanned the doors, and not finding any booby traps, pried it open with the butt of my rifle.

"Ideas?" My speech echoing through the darkened elevator shaft. The lift was several floors below us, and the shaft extended above beyond what I could see. If we started to climb and fell, it would at least be a quick death.

"We could climb." Liara suggested. "If this map is correct, then we only need to move up three levels."

I would have liked to hack the thing, but with the technical difficulties we had had until this point, I couldn't risk losing any more time. Sensing the apprehension in my eyes, she continued, "Of course, if we should fall I can theoretically use my biotics to facilitate a 'gentle' landing."

"Theoretically?"

She stepped closer and examined the elevator shaft herself. "I have never done anything like it before." She admitted.

"Well," I said, tethering us together once more. "If we _do _fall, you'll have the rest of our lives to figure it out." I gave her a wry smile and tilted my head. The look she gave me in return was absolutely priceless.

The climb itself wasn't all that difficult, as Liara and I communicated almost flawlessly to traverse the engineered beams that lined the walls of the shaft. The most difficult part came when I actually had to _swing_ Liara a solid two feet to reach the second set of doors and I could feel my arms getting weaker as she pried them open.

When the doors finally did open, she was fired upon. Instinctively, she dropped down, the full weight of her body testing the limits of my grip on the steel beam I was desperately clinging to.

"Are you okay!?" I called down to her.

"Yes!" She called back, trying to use her foot to hook onto another beam and take some pressure off of me.

When I saw a human face peer down from the barely open doors, I started yelling for some help.

The armoured human scrambled to open the doors fully, and seconds later, more humans were pulling Liara and I out of the shaft and apologizing profusely.

Captain Ventralis, an ERCS officer, was a very large, well built individual who looked like he was running on empty. He and his men had been overwhelmed by rachni following the outbreak from the hot lab facility. His force had been diminished by nearly eighty percent. He clearly hadn't slept in days, but had successfully protected a small number of civilian scientists and researchers that had managed to escape the facility. The rachni were throwing themselves against his defenses. They were attempting to _wear him down_ and they were succeeding.

And he was able to confirm Benezia's presence.

I tried to gauge Liara's reaction when he mentioned her name, and that she had ventured into the hot labs nearly thirty six hours prior and had not returned. She was either alive and in the hot labs, or…I knew Liara was considering the alternatives.

Ventralis was kind enough to give me the pass code for the elevators, and after a short trip to his security console, Liara and I were riding silently deep into the mountain side.

* * *

The elevator halted at the hot labs, the lights flickered, and the doors failed to open. _What now?_ I groaned silently. I cast Liara a weary look and pried open the doors. The room was black and we switched on our flashlights. I struck an emergency flare and tossed it to the center of the room. It rolled next to a man, huddling into himself on the ground. His clothes stinking and soiled from _days_ of confinement. I quickly discovered he was severely unhinged.

This is where the outbreak started, he had told us. And as I approached the window to peer down at the laboratory floor below, I stopped breathing. _Thousands upon thousands_ of rachni of all sizes were moving about. The noise suddenly burning my ears. I shut off my light and instructed Liara to do the same.

"They know you are here now." The old Russian scientist had muttered. "We will all die soon anyway. The code omega will destroy the facility."

It took three strides to make my way back to him, bend down, and lift him to his feet. "Tell me how to kill them."

"You can't."

"That's bullshit." I barked. The noise was getting louder and I knew they were coming.

"You don't understand what you're dealing with, do you? Perfect organism. Its structural perfection is matched only by its hostility."

"You admire it?" Liara asked, startled.

"I admire its purity." The scientist whispered. "A survivor... unclouded by conscience, remorse, or delusions of morality."

I actually slapped him. "Tell me how to kill them!"

"The code omega will destroy the facility." He said again, as flat as it had been the first time.

I threw him back down to the ground and looked around desperately for a second option. Banging and scratching were now coming from the ceiling and floor. We had been found.

Mira, the VI, and the bane of my existence for all things technical suddenly illuminated the far side of the room. "Dr. Tartakovsky, you may activate the neutron purge."

"Activate the neutron purge!" I screamed, running over to her.

"Please input activation code," she said in her cold, neutral voice.

A loud bang and a rachni soldier had burst through the floor, and impaled Dr. Tartakovsky though his mid section before Liara could put it down.

How in the hell do we get the code _now?_

"Executive override! Spectre authorization six-six-five-zero-three!"

"Spectre authorization unavailable. Please enter proper activation code." She smiled. I pulled out my rifle and let out a frustrated burst. The bullets passed through the projection and embedded themselves into the wall. "Hostile action will not be tolerated."

"I've got it!" Liara shouted and ran towards me. She shouted the code at the VI, and once it was accepted, we had mere seconds to blast our way through a crowd of angry rachni and back to the elevator. I prayed to every god that would listen that it was still under power.

The doors closed and the lift descended. I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. We were safe. It had worked.

My feeling of success had lasted only until the elevator came to a screeching halt and the doors opened once more.

"I found the Queen." Liara breathed heavily while she sifted through Dr. Tartakovsky's omni-tool, exhaustion now firmly settled into her voice. "She's in the main bio lab. If my mother is alive…"

"Let's go, then." And finish this.

* * *

Another message to the _Normandy_ went unanswered and despite every bone in my body telling me to stop and rest, I knew we had to reach Benezia. Reach the rachni Queen and stop it from reproducing more. The only way to end this was by going forward, but I was hesitant to open those doors. I didn't want Liara to be put in a situation where she would have to watch her mother die. With just the two of us entering the facility, there was a very likely chance that Liara herself would have to pull the trigger. I couldn't imagine having to go through that. What that would do to her.

I suspected she was already irrevocably changed. For better or worse, I wasn't sure.

The doors opened to a large, sterile chamber. The catwalks that circled the room were populated with various lab equipment and furniture, ramps on all 4 cardinal points leading up to a slightly raised second level where a massive cylindrical container housed the larges rachni I could have imagined. I barely noticed the tall, elegant asari Matriarch typing away at a large console responsible for the Queen's life support. She was dressed in a long, form fitting, black gown. Her crest covered by an imposing headdress. Her features were worn and tired, and full of anger as she turned to face us.

Liara had stopped breathing, her expression one of hurt and confusion. Her mother barely acknowledged her presence.

"You do not know the privilege of being a mother." She said calmly. "There is power in creation. To shape a life. To turn it toward happiness or despair." She turned to face the rachni Queen, "Her children were to be raised to hunt Saren's enemies. They still can be."

I took a few cautious steps forward, my hand hovering over my side arm, Liara still frozen in place.

"I won't be moved by words of sympathy." She continued, her words still cold and uncaring. "No matter who you bring into this confrontation."

"I am here because I want to be, mother." Liara's voice sounded hurt.

For the first time since we had walked into the room, Benezia turned her attention to her daughter. "Ah. What have you told him about me, Liara?"

"What _could_ I say, mother?" Her voice cracked. "That you're _insane?_ Should I tell him how to kill you?! What could I possibly say?!" She was holding back tears now.

Benezia didn't answer, instead, she turned her attention back to me and…smiled? "Have you ever faced an asari commando unit before, Commander? Few humans have."

"I can't believe," my words were cut off as I was struck by an invisible wave of biotic force. It hit me in the chest like an anvil dropping from on high, knocking the breath from my lungs. I was lifted off my feet and shot straight back like I was on a rope being pulled from behind. I crashed through lab equipment and computer consoles, banging my head and slamming my elbow so hard it made my right hand go numb.

I came to rest twenty feet later, amid a pile of broken technology. Groggy, I struggled to my feet. The effort made me cough, and I tasted blood in my mouth.

Liara had regained her footing and we were now thoroughly separated. She was drawing on her own biotic abilities and threw up a powerful high-gravity barrier to shield her from flying debris and further biotic attacks from her mother, and the _six_ asari commandos now flooding the room.

I grabbed my rifle and started to run as fast as I could. Where and to what purpose, I didn't know, but it was my best hope at dodging attacks.

I rounded a corner and came within several feet of a commander. I moved to duck but she caught me with a wave and I flew back against the wall again. My rifle knocked loose, I reached for my pistol.

There was a sudden burst of light and heat in front of me. It was an astonishing sight: a swirling vortex of concentrated dark energy was launching vertically in a pillar toward the ceiling, building to a critical threshold before collapsing in upon itself.

Liara had created a singularity, a subatomic point of nearly infinite mass, with enough gravitational force at the center to warp the fabric of the space-time continuum. The nearby consoles began to slide across the floor, drawn inexorably toward the epicenter of the cosmic phenomenon that had suddenly manifested itself in the middle of the room.

And just as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone. I barely had time to cover my head, reacting to Liara's command to 'get down' as she detonated her own singularity. There was a sharp, violent out rush of air as the phenomenon exploded, and I was thrown back against the wall for a third time.

I stood, shook it off and started running and gunning again, and watched as Liara fought both asari commandos and attacks from her own mother. But then I saw her mother drop to her knees, rise, and _attack her own commandos_. It allowed Liara a brief reprieve, but we were being worn down.

I knew I was finished when a few bullets downed my shields and a biotic slam took me off my feet again. When I came to, an asari commando was lifting me to a standing position. Commandos don't get this close unless they know they're going to get the kill. I gasped for air and searched the room for Liara, and my heart dropped when I saw her on the ground. I snapped back to my predicament when the commando tightened her grip on my throat. I tried to fight back, but my limbs weren't complying.

It's hard to tell how many times the words "_so this is how it happens"_ have crossed my mind_._ I closed my eyes, expecting either a bullet or a blade to penetrate my body.

Then, a flash of agonizing fire erupted in her shoulder as a hyper accelerated projectile no bigger than a pin sheared effortlessly through the plates of her body armour before exploding the flesh and bone underneath, and exiting less than an inch from my face. The impact spun her around and I dropped to the floor as another shot echoed in the chamber. I watched her kneecap explode and she collapsed to the ground, her scream rising up to meet the unmistakable zip-zip-zip of high-powered rounds slicing through the thin air.

The cavalry had arrived.

Garrus, Tali, Wrex and Ash split to opposite sides of the room while I screamed orders in the midst of all the noise and chaos. I quickly mounted the writhing commando and thrust my blade between her breasts and I didn't pull it out until I saw her soul.

Seconds later, when the air was stilled, I heard Liara's tired foot steps bounding up to where her mother lay collapsed on the floor. I stood on shaky legs, still feeling the effects of multiple biotic attacks and forced my legs to move.

"You're welcome!" Garrus shouted from across the room.

"About time you showed up. I owe you one." I said as I shuffled to the raised platform where Liara's mother lay.

"By my count it's more like twelve." He called back.

With Garrus and the others securing the perimeter, I was free to focus on Benezia, now lying in her daughter's arms. Liara's expression was one of pain, confusion, anger, and sadness. She was shouting at her mother, holding back the tears that threatened to spring forth.

"Mother, please! Fight him! You have to fight him!"

Fight him?

"You must listen," Benezia breathed, clutching her daughter's hand. "Saren still whispers in my mind. I can fight his compulsions briefly. But the indoctrination is strong."

"Shepard…" Liara whispered as I knelt beside her and looked into Benezia's searching eyes. She was clearly experiencing a tremendous amount of physical discomfort and pain, occasionally squeezing her eyes shut and wincing.

"So you could turn on us again?" I asked.

"Yes. But it would not be my will."

"What's causing this?" I asked more quickly, hoping to extract as many answers as I could before she attacked again.

"The key is Sovereign, his flagship. It is not of this world. The geth did not build it. " She winced again and shook her head from side to side. "The longer you stay aboard, the more Saren's will seems correct. You sit at his feet and smile as his words pour into you. You begin to idolize him. I thought I could resist. I thought I was stronger. But I became a willing servant."

Benezia tried to sit upright and Liara helped her to lean against the console. "Saren sent me here to extract the location of the Mu Relay from the Queen's mind…"

"How would you do that?"

"She would have melded with the Queen. Joined their minds." Liara whispered to me.

"Yes." Benezia confirmed. "I was not…gentle." Liara's face dropped when she saw the shame in her mother's eyes. She winched again, her whole body tensing. "The data…is here…" She handed Liara an OSD. "He is looking for the conduit. He has the coordinates." Her voice was steadily rising. "You have to stop him!...stop me!"

"Mother…please. Fight it." Liara begged.

"His teeth are at my ear. His fingers…on my spine!" She was desperately trying to push Liara away. "I will _not_ kill my own daughter!" She shouted to the empty room before looking back at me, pulling my hand that was still clutching a pistol towards her chest.

"….no…."

She looked me dead in the eyes, making a final request that she knew only I could fulfill. In that fleeting moment she and I shared, I saw the intense love she held for her daughter. In her last brief moment of lucidity, she was asking me to pull the trigger, so Liara wouldn't have to. She saw the hesitation in my eyes change to understanding, and I adjusted the pistol to aim at her heart.

When she was satisfied I would do it she turned to Liara and tried to smile.

"You've always made me proud, Liara".

"Please don't leave…" Liara whispered in return.

Benezia's eyes shifted to me and burned with determination. I put my shaking hand on her shoulder, tightened the grip on my pistol, and said a quiet "I'm sorry."

The sound of the gunshot was deafening. It echoed forever.

I stood as Benezia's body relaxed and slumped forward, her eyes slowly closing, and Liara rushed to cradle her in her arms.

I stood back and watched a daughter say a tearful goodbye to her mother. This scene was all too familiar.

When Garrus came up behind me, I wasn't sure how long I had been standing there. Liara still hald her mother in her arms, though she was no longer whispering quietly to her, instead she was staring blankly at the wall in front of her.

"Take Liara back to the ship." I said quietly. "Tell them to prepare for casualties. I want a dedicated guard for the Matriarch when I get back." Before Garrus could respond I was walking towards Liara and placing a hand on her shoulder. She startled at the sudden contact, jarred from her thoughts, and stood to face me. Her face was bloodied, bruised, dirty, and streaked with tears. I reached up with my thumb and wiped one side of her cheek, just where her barely visible freckle like facial markings stood out against her blue skin. The impossibly blue stare she gave me in return is forever seared into my brain.

_I'm sorry I killed your mother. I'm sorry you had to watch her die in your arms. I'm sorry for what this will do to you. I am sorry._ I said nothing.

She wiped her eyes and walked towards Tali.

I approached Benezia, knelt, and removed her headdress. Beyond the sunken eyes and the harsh, tired lines on her face, she was truly beautiful. I could see Liara in her, just like I can see Benezia in Liara now. I wished I could have known her as Liara knew her.

The events that followed those few quiet minutes have been regarded as some of the most controversial in galactic history.

The rachni Queen, the massive creature contained in front of me, the one I had completely forgotten about, had possessed a dead asari commando, and began speaking through her.

She asked to be spared. To be released.

"These are not my children." She said calmly. "They have no music, no colours. They are driven by war. They do not sing as children do."

The rachni in the labs had been created and turned into mindless soldiers and she had been imprisoned and tortured.

I couldn't justify killing her. I couldn't justify dooming an entire race based on the actions of those that had captured her. She was a product of the evil around her, and she vowed to atone. Despite the terrifying sight of her, she seemed genuinely interested in peace.

So I let her go. And I prepared myself for the consequences.

Back on the _Normandy,_ I had Pressley set a course for the Citadel before checking in with Dr. Chakwas. I had a broken rib, a case of dehydration, and was bordering on exhaustion. She ordered me to sleep. She had ordered Liara to do the same.

"She'll still be here when you wake up." Chakwas told me gently. "Then you can go to her."

I planned on it.

* * *

**A/N:**_ So I wanted to add more but I thought it was too long already. I'll be out in the field for the next little while, so don't expect updates until mid next month. Pray to the weather gods for me. Pray hard._

_Please continue to read and review, and a huge thanks to those who already have! You have no idea how much it is appreciated._

_Cheers!_


	24. Impermanent

**a/n:**_ Man. So sorry this one took so long to churn out, but between field deployments and playoff hockey (GO LEAFS GO), it's been difficult. I can't even guarantee quality at this point. Just be glad the words 'SHOOT' and random strings profanities aren't scattered throughout the document. _

_Of course if you like or dislike, please review!_

* * *

Almost twenty-four hours later, I was back in the med-bay, fully rested, and staring at the ceiling as Dr. Chakwas administered several more shots to combat any infection threatening to spread from the wound in my leg. There was no permanent damage, however I was 'advised' to stay off it as much as possible. While the _Normandy_ made its way toward the Citadel once more, I busied myself with administration.

After all, you can't spell officer without 'office'.

Word of my actions on Noveria had already spread and I was forced to frantically explain why a very powerful, respected, and now controversial Matriarch lay lifeless in my cargo hold under constant guard.

My report on Noveria marked the first official publication of the word 'indoctrination', and the first time the argument had been rebuffed.

I was also trying to make appropriate arrangements for the transfer of Benezia's remains once we docked. After a bit of back and forth with docking authority and the asari embassy, I was able to arrange security and as much privacy as possible and I was fully expecting Liara to accompany her mother's body back to Thessia to attend to her rites.

Standing outside of Liara's quarters with two dinner trays in my hands, I wasn't sure exactly how to proceed. Enough time had passed that I figured she was at least somewhat rested, though perhaps not enough time had passed to let the death of her mother truly sink in. I knew asari took a philosophical approach to death, but the loss of the parent is difficult not matter what the case. Especially when it is unexpected.

When the initial shock and grief passes, you stop thinking about all the moments they won't be around for. Instead, your left thinking about all the moments you took for granted when they were alive.

You realize that every moment had more meaning than you dared to recognize at the time, so much meaning it scared you, so you just lived, just took for granted the love and laughter of each day, and didn't allow yourself to consider the sacredness of it. But when it's over and you're alone, you begin to see that it wasn't just dinner together, not just reading a book to you at night, or playing catch or fishing together or worrying over the temperature outside and the amount of sunscreen on your skin. It was everything.

It was the why of life, every event and precious moment of it. The answer to the mystery of existence is the love you shared sometimes so imperfectly, and when the loss wakes you to the deeper beauty of it, to the sanctity of it, you can't get off your knees for a long time, you're driven to your knees not by the weight of the loss but by gratitude for what preceded the loss. And the ache is always there, but one day not the emptiness, because to nurture the emptiness, to take solace in it, is to disrespect the gift of life.

I never really fully dealt with my grief, or any emotion of relevance to that point. I compartmentalized. That's how I was able to leave it. I was afraid of the pain, afraid of the grief. But later I realized that by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your head even, you experience them fully and completely. You know what pain is. You know what love is. "All right. I have experienced that emotion. I recognize that emotion. Now I need to detach from that emotion for a moment." _Don't cling to things_,I would tell myself. Because everything is impermanent.

I knocked on the door and she answered, dressed in a fresh set of clothes, her eyes tired and weary, and at the same time calm. I just looked at her, feeling utterly empty. I didn't know what I was supposed to say.

So I just lifted the trays to show her. "I brought food." I come in peace, and I want to talk.

"I am not very hungry, but I know I need to eat." She said as she turned and walked over to her desk.

"I thought I could sit with you."

She smiled softly and took her tray from my hand. "I would like that."

So we sat in silence and ate lunch, and I watched her every movement. When we finished I removed the trays and the silent seconds that passed while I twiddled my fingers and tried to conjure my words felt like hours. Finally, I looked up at her face. There was a small cut near her upper lip. I touched it lightly.

"Does it hurt?"

My gaze moved from her lips up to her eyes. She was looking at me in a way that made my heart break.

"Yes," she responded quietly.

My hand dropped to my side and I let out a deep breath, never breaking contact with her eyes.

"Liara, I am so sorry for your loss."

When you're in command of a group of soldiers, you quickly learn that life doesn't stop simply because you are deployed. People still get divorced, have children, lose friends or family members. And it becomes your job as their commander to see them through their difficult times. You might not be qualified to provide relationship, psychological, or medical advice, but listening helps. And I you don't have all the answers (and you usually don't), you can provide the resources that do.

She straightened her posture a little before giving me that same soft, lying smile. "Thank you, Shepard. But I am fine."

I stared at the floor and played with my hands.

"I'm not going to sit here and tell you I know what you're going through…but I do know a bit about…" I stopped, not wanting to go into that particular subject at the moment, "You can't pretend like it doesn't bother you…" I paused and looked back into her eyes, "she was your mother."

"She was…and…she was not." Her voice was nearly a whisper, "My mother... she was beautiful, softened at the edges and tempered with a spine of steel. I wanted to grow old and be like her." A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "When I was a child my mother told me, 'If you become a soldier, you will be a general. If you become a priestess, you will be the _Arcana_ herself.' Instead I became an archeologist. Nothing more." She shook her head as if trying to rid herself of her thoughts and regain her composure. "I prefer to remember her for who she was. Not as how Saren corrupted her."

"The best parts of her live on in you. Her determination, her intelligence….her courage."

A flash of a smile and her eyes became tired again, "You are kind to say so, Shepard."

"If it could have gone any other way…"The words came out of my mouth before I had a chance to smith them properly, and now I didn't know how to finish. "I want you to know…killing her…it was never…"

Before I could finish, or try to finish I felt her small hand gently grasp my fingers.

"There is enough grief in this world without casting blame as well. I do not blame you Shepard. Benezia chose her path." She told me.

I felt another pang of guilt rush through me. I was supposed to be comforting _her_ not the other way around.

"I almost wish you would," I told her.

"I do not need to. You are doing a better job." The fact that she was teasing me made me relax a little, and I let out a deep breath as she let go of my fingers, and straightened her posture.

"We're on our way to the Citadel, now. I've made most of the arrangements for your mother's transport to Thessia. I just need the details from you. Do you…have any other family that you need to contact?"

"No," She said absently. "As far as a bloodline goes…I am the last of my name. Goddess," she choked out a half sob-half laugh at the revelation. "It sounds so final to say it out loud."

"I lost my parents when I was young, too." I offered, and before I knew it, I was lost in my own thoughts, staring at the floor again.

"Every morning, I wake up and forget just for a second that it happened. But once my eyes open, it buries me like a landslide of sharp, sad rocks. Once my eyes open, I'm heavy, like there's too much gravity on my heart. Even hearing Ash talk about her father, about her intact family, makes my chest hurt for a second, like someone pierced it with a needle." But there is something about losing your mother that is permanent and inexpressible - a wound that will never quite heal.

We lapsed into a comfortable silence. You can talk with someone for years, everyday, and still, it won't mean as much as what you can have when you sit in front of someone, not saying a word, yet you feel that person with your heart, you feel like you have known the person for forever. I enjoyed our silence, simply because she was there.

"I never knew my father," She finally said. "My mother never spoke of her. All I know is that she was another asari. I am what you would call…pureblood." The word seemed to have a foul taste as it escaped her lips.

When she explained that unions between two asari for the purposes of reproduction were discouraged, and even ridiculed in such a hateful way, my perception of the asari as a great and noble race was suddenly flipped on its head.

It's human nature to fear the unfamiliar. We discriminate based on sex, religion, ethnic background. The differences are usually superficial. The asari had discrimination down to a science.

"Perhaps my mother's partner was…ashamed of their union. Perhaps she did not want her association with my mother or I to be public knowledge. To bare a child as a Matriarch is also…unusual."

"I'll never understand why some people can't just let others live their lives, you know," I said. "When I look at the moons and planets and stars, all that narrow-mindedness and hate seem so petty. The universe is such a big place. One hundred thousand light years just from one end of the Milky Way to the other. One hundred. Thousand. Light years. In the time it's taken for light to travel from one end of our galaxy to the other, thousands of generations have passed. It really makes you realize how small we are. How short our time really is."

She smiled slightly, this time a little truth to it shone through, "You sound very much like a Matriarch, Shepard."

"If there is anything you need, Liara. Don't hesitate to ask. My door is always open."

"I think what I need most right now, is a friend," she said softly.

"Everyone on this ship considers you a friend, Liara. We will be sad to see you go."

"Go?" She stared at me quizzically.

"I uh…assumed you would be attending your mother back to Thessia?"

"As I said, Commander. Benezia chose her path. And I have chosen mine. I am with you until the end."

Relief. Though I made a conscious effort to appear concerned as I drew a breath and passed my hand over my head.

"You're sure about this?"

"Yes."

"Alright…I still want you to take as much time as you need when we dock. Take some time for yourself."

"I will."

I stood, wiped my sweaty palms on my pants and turned to leave. The thoughts in the back of my mind had worried their way to the tip of my tongue, but I still struggled to get them out. I could feel my opportunity slipping through my fingers with each step toward her door. So I stopped.

"Was there something else, Commander?"

I turned and tilted my head. "I don't know…" I said honestly. "I'm very happy you'll be staying with us." _I should have rehearsed this._

She stood and closed the distance between us. "So am I." She took another step toward me and I felt my heart beating in my throat.

"Because I feel, and I have reason to believe, that we could come to mean something to each other. Though, I did not know if it was appropriate to act on my feelings."

"I uh…" my mouth was suddenly very dry, "have similar feelings."

"After listening and getting to know more about you. Also, feeling a deep connection between us that goes beyond physical attraction. I am beginning to feel for, so much more than the friendship that I waited to grow with you."

I was speechless. My body fighting competing urges to run away in the other direction, or push her up against the wall and kiss her with everything I had.

"Goddess." She sighed, bringing her hand to her forehead, "This makes no sense. We're from two different species, we have nothing in common, we hardly even know each other."

"We've got more in common than you think," I said, "This is new for me too. I don't think it's supposed to make sense."

"The human race is all the same when it comes to romantic relations," said Liara. "A startling absence of impulse control combined with complete myopia."

I had to laugh. "You might be right about that."

"This is…all a bit overwhelming. I am not used to this…you…I need some time."

"Of course. Whatever you need."

_But I warn you, Liara, I'm an extremely patient man. I've had extensive practice in waiting out the enemy. My life as a soldier has taught me that attentive persistence and focused diligence always pay off. _

"Okay."

"Okay. I'll let you know when we dock."

I left her quarters feeling incredibly light headed. I got about half way to engineering before I stopped, turned, and marched purposefully back the way I came.

When her doors opened, I almost slammed right into her.

"Would you like to have dinner with me?" _This is what I'm supposed to do right? This is how it goes?_

"I…yes. That would be lovely."

"Okay then." I said slowly, as I turned and tried to remember what had been so important down in engineering.

* * *

There's a fine line between thinking about somebody and thinking about not thinking about somebody, but I have the patience and the self-control to walk that line for hours - days, if I have to.

I jumped right over that line the second I saw Liara walk into the restraunt that night. I remember every detail. She wore a floor length gown that covered her high up to her neck, but was fully opened at the back, exposing her shoulder blades and the slender curve of her body.

The colour of her dress, I still can't think of the name. It altered from shades of greens and blues depending on the light. I just remember the way it made her skin shine. I'd never seen a more vibrant blue.

I pulled her chair out for her and ignored the way the others at the table stared. Garrus, Tali, Ash and Kaidan had all been invited to dinner and a night out. Time with your subordinates in a social setting is crucial. And I knew whatever feelings I might have had for Liara were against regulation.

Fraternization in any sense while deployed is a chargeable offence for a number of reasons. The most important being that it can break down cohesion, or result in conflicts of interest. But I couldn't see the harm in exploring these feelings. It would just have to be subtle.

While we waited for our meals, I slowly and carefully placed my hand on the small of her back, and smiled to myself when I felt her stiffen at the touch. Her skin was cooler than my hand, and incredibly soft. After a few seconds, my fingertips were firmly in place, and she began to relax, no one at the table had noticed our exchange. I wasn't even sure what the topic of conversation was.

She took a sip of her wine and leaned in to say something. "Commander, I believe your hand is on my back." She said quietly, so no one else could hear.

"Oh." I said with mock surprise. "So it is. Would you like me to move it?"

"Please."

I started slowly tracing my fingertips in random patterns on her bareback. The feather light touches causing the scales on her skin to flare and enlarge as she stifled her growing smile with another sip from her drink.

I've always found asari skin, and particularly Liara's skin, to be extraordinarily fascinating. While her scales helped retain moisture in her body, she could also alter the sensitivity of her skin; enlarging them to become more sensitive to her environment, or contracting them to create a rudimentary type of armour. Much to Liara's dismay, however, the concept of migrating erogenous zones on the asari body usually gave me the upper hand in situations like these.

As expected, once dinner was adjourned, dancing ensued. I avoided it by standing at the bar, conversing with whomever decided to take a break.

I found myself scanning the room for the target of my interest, and when I couldn't locate her on the dance floor, I took a walk. I found her standing alone against a railing in the viewing area, looking out to the at once calming and startling sight of the Widow nebula.

"Not much for dancing?" I asked as I sidled up beside her.

"It is so loud in those clubs. It's almost as if people want an excuse not to talk to one another."

"Ah, you've got it all wrong on that one, Doc." I took a step closer to her, still not making physical contact. "The music is loud so you have to get close."

"So then why are you not dancing?"

"It's never been my strong suit…and because at the end of the day, I'm still the CO. I need to maintain some respect." I laughed. "And you're out here. All by yourself."

She looked out at the nebula again, deep in thought. "When I'm in the company of others - even my nearest and dearest - there always comes a moment when I would rather be reading a book."

"I wanted to tell you…you look absolutely incredible tonight." She looked at me and smiled. "You know…just in case you weren't already aware."

"Thank you. You know, most asari are attracted to female humans. Males are typically understood to be too…hard." She drew out the last word, the effects she had on me obviously unintentional.

"Well that's no surprise." I quickly countered. "The female body is a work of art. The male body is utilitarian. It's for getting around. Like a Mako."

She laughed at that, the sound echoing in the small viewing room. Music to my ears.

"It's nice to see you laughing." I said softly. We had been on the Citadel for nearly two days, and nearly a week had passed since the death of her mother. "How are you doing, Liara?"

"It's strange. I hadn't spoken to her in so long. But it was not until she was gone that I realized how much I missed her. I suppose I took for granted knowing that she was…somewhere." Her gaze was fixed once again on the nebula. "According to her siari beliefs, death is a merging of one's spiritual energy back into greater universal consciousness. So I guess you could say that she is still with us. All around us."

"And what do you believe."

She thought about the question for a second. "I still hold to the 'old ways'. Her soul rests with Athame, in the afterlife. I would hope she resides in the Isles of the Blessed, where she could live happily. Though I suppose with her sins, she might be condemned to Tartarus. Not a very scientific view for a scientist, I know."

"I don't think nearly a millennium of kindness and compassion can be undone so quickly." My hand went to the small of her back again, and I took a look around to make sure we were still alone before following her gaze to the endless stars in front of us. "Aristotle taught that stars are made of a different matter than the four earthly elements— a quintessence— that also happens to be what the human psyche is made of. Which is why man's spirit corresponds to the stars. Perhaps that's not a very scientific view, but I do like the idea that there's a little starlight in each of us."

Another silence lapsed between us, and I just enjoyed the feeling of my fingers on her skin as I traced circular patterns on her back.

"I saw her once." I caught myself saying, "About four years after she died. It started out like a normal dream. I was at some kind of party, and I remember not being able to find my shoes. And I glanced around the room, and there she was. Standing there smiling at me. Intact. And the way she looked at me, like she knew what I was feeling because she had felt it too. We both knew she wasn't alive. And the way she hugged me. I could smell her. I hadn't smelt her in so long." Before I knew it, I was choking out the words and I knew I had to finish my story quickly.

"We just sat there and talked all night. She wanted to know what I had been doing." I laughed. "I told her everything that had happened over the last few years. It felt so good just to talk to her again. It's how I know there's an afterlife. I know she's out there somewhere, and maybe I'll see her again."

Instead of replying, Liara leaned closer to me and rested her head on my shoulder.

"Everything will be alright in the end." I said quietly. "And if it's not alright…it's not yet the end."

She closed her eyes and sighed at my mother's words, and I made it a point to preserve that moment in my mind, as perfectly as possible.

* * *

Our evening would be cut short; the crew of the _Normandy_ recalled to deploy immediately to investigate a distress signal received from Admiral Kahoku.

When the Code Omega on Noveria had been activated, all data pertaining to the Rachni had been sent to an off planet site, where it was quickly hacked and seeded to a separate off planet site. Admiral Kahoku had read the report and immediately suspected Cerberus and had gone to investigate. Twenty-four hours later and he had not checked in. The Alliance expected the worst.

Of course, their suspicions were usually right.


	25. Good Intentions

**A/N: **_Sorry for the delay! Hopefully I can speed up my progress but I had a hard time pumping this one out for some reason. Please continue to read and review! For those of you that do, THANK YOU!  
_

* * *

"Niner this is one-one, BLUE BIRD now. Am observing four times enemy dismounts patrolling outer perimeter. Clear lines to all targets, one-two may be able to observe."

"Niner, roger. One-two acknowledge."

"One-two roger I see em. One-one this One-two I'll take the two on the left."

"One-one sounds good, Niner do you acknowledge?"

"Niner roger out to you. All stations this is niner. H hour in ten minutes, wait out."

It had taken Garrus and Ashley a little under two hours to drop into Binthu's atmosphere and establish a foot on the ground from two different vantage points around the Cerberus research facility.

We were running out of time, but it was the tactically sound choice to make. The research base was set up in a very sound defensive position, in the middle of a vast open space, on the high ground, allowing them to observe further than their weapons could shoot. The plan had to be simple, but flawlessly executed.

Garrus and Ashley would act as a faint; drawing enemy fire in two different directions, while Kaiden and I dropped from the still undetected _Normandy,_ through the atmosphere, and right on top of the facility for a breach.

It was all about timing. Timing and precision.

I felt Kaidan's hands tapping my chute holds, checking my oxygen levels, scanning my suit for breaches and finally running his fingers along the seal of my helmet and mask. He gave me a thumbs up and I completed the ready procedure just as he did for me.

"Green light in thirty seconds." Joker's voice echoed in my helmet as I tried to steady my breathing. I positioned myself at the ramp, and readied myself for the jump.

There are several technical requirements and challenges to space jumping. In addition to kinetic barriers, armour needs to protect against hostile temperatures, pressures, and lack of oxygen. At the heights involved, low pressure can cause decompression sickness from space exposure, so suits need to be individually and precisely calibrated prior to each jump. There is also the possibility of a suit breach, causing the diver to lose oxygen. Duration may also become a problem, because even though supersonic speeds can be achieved in stratospheric jumps, the greater the height, the more oxygen must be carried to ensure the diver survives, thus calibration.

Furthermore, depending on the weight of the diver, the re-entry suit needs to be armoured with ablative shells to survive the heat of re-entry. While there is no "fire layer" of atmosphere, the speed of orbit is in the thousands of kilometres per hour. To go from this speed into the atmosphere produces a compression wave that heats the air, and could cause the diver to reach upwards of 200 °C. There is also the problem of the stress on the suit materials caused by supersonic or hypersonic shock waves.

G-forces are also a challenge. As the diver presses through the thin atmosphere to the thicker air below, he could slow at such rates that he experiences positive or negative G-forces from 2-8, possibly contributing to black outs or other pressure-related complications. Spinning can also cause blood to pool in extremities - possibly causing hemorrhages or unconsciousness.

I usually tried not to think about all these things. I had done this many times before.

"I've never done this before." Kaidan said through the comm., likely thinking of all the possible ways we could die before even hitting the ground. "Not outside of training anyways."

"Then we'll make sure you get your combat jump wings sewed to your dress blues when we get back." I chided.

"I'm afraid of heights." He said with nervous laughter.

"So am I." I admitted.

"You are?"

"Jumping out of a perfectly good spacecraft and plummeting towards a hostile planet is not a natural act. So let's do it right, and enjoy the view."

"Green light ten seconds."

I just focus on my breathing. Once breath in, one breath out. Nice and slow. Over and over. It's all I can hear. I focus on the readouts, the flight path. Not the intense pressure pushing my organs to my feet. Not the heat threatening to melt my skin should a piece of ablative plating succumb to the G forces.

I count the parachutes as they break my fall, one through seven, and then I can see my target. Chute eight opens as the target gets larger and larger and I know I'm going to have a rough landing. I relax my muscles and brace for impact. I feel my knees spike with pain as my feet connect with the roof of the facility and slam into my chest.

Kaidan used his biotics to soften his landing. I envied him in the brief moment between my landing and the time it took to grab my rifle and begin engaging the enemy on the ground, too distracted by Garrus and Ashley to notice our drop. Seconds later they were down and the Mako was on its way to secure the area, Garrus and Ash in tow.

I pulled my omni-tool from my belt and flipped on the flashlight. The thin beam of soft illumination allowed me to locate the tiny infrared emitters along the outside of the venting shaft. Adjusting a setting on the omni-tool, I used it to tap into the wireless signal, overriding the alarm system.

"This acid rain is wreaking havoc with our sensors, Sir." Sgt Chase radioed through the comm as Kaidan and I slid down from the roof and to the ground. "We can't stay here long."

"Roger. We won't be. Keep an eye out for a counter attack, once we've cleared the building, prep the bodies for extraction…and get them out of this rain. We need to be able to identify them."

We breached the door with no resistance and I halted short of the elevator shaft that would take us down to the main facility. Prying the doors open, I noticed the elevator itself was still at the bottom of the shaft, indicating our attack had gone unnoticed.

"I'm still blocking their comms," Tali said quietly as I continued to examine the shaft, "They're going to get suspicious sooner or later."

I knelt down and held out my hand, and Tali handed me the small, extendible camera that I snaked down the elevator shaft and through a vent, looking at the elevator exit on the bottom floor.

Images from the camera were transmitted back to the readout on my omni-tool, allowing me to see what awaited us on the other side. The elevator was at one end of a corridor. Several doors that looked to be cells lined either side. At the far end was a small table, where a pair of armed guards played cards and cast occasional glances at a bank of monitors resting on the table.

Using the camera magnification, I zoomed in to get a closer look at the images on the monitors. There were six in all: four showed only darkened rooms but one of the rooms had a lone figure huddled in a corner, another showed three occupants, two lying on the floor and the third sitting between them. I withdrew the camera quickly; it was obvious these guards were in charge of watching their prisoners.

Kahoku had to be one of them. But who were the others? Was Cerberus conducting experiments on them?

"Two enemy, four friendly at the bottom. I'll hook up first. Kaidan you're next."

I quickly stashed the camera, hooked up my rappel line, readied my shotgun, then lowered myself down from the top floor until I balanced precariously on the elevator's narrow bottom ledge, crouched, and quietly peeled away the vent door. It was only big enough to fit one of us through at a time. Kaidan reached me and I threw myself through the tiny hole in the wall the vent had allowed.

My momentum carried me into the corridor, where I hit the floor, tucked into a forward role and came up firing. Neither guard was expecting the attack and I caught them completely unprepared. Most of the first two blasts from my shotgun were deflected by the kinetic shields in their combat suits, keeping them alive just long enough to jump to their feet. But the third and fourth blasts killed the men before they had a chance to draw their weapons, hurtling their bodies back with such force that they slammed into the table, sending the monitors crashing to the floor.

Knowing we had to work fast, I turned my attention to the cells. Four of them completely dark, with thick bullet proof glass doors for viewing. I slapped my hand against the access panel of the nearest closed door, hoping it wasn't protected by a security code. To my relief it slid open, revealing the room with the three figures inside. And that's when I realized I had made a horrible mistake.

They weren't humans at all, the prisoners were husks.

I barely had enough time to raise my shotgun again and start pumping rounds into the charging human forms, running backwards as fast as I could.

"Rachni!" I heard Kaidan shout behind me and wheeled around to face the four of them, tentacles flailing wildly, screeching cries tearing through my brain.

I spun again and ran towards Kaidan, hoping to create enough distance between myself and the abominations so we could engage them in a fair fight. My eyes caught sight of the elevator, _bending_ under the enormous weight of a krogan.

Wrex had heard the shots and the word 'rachni' and had thrown himself down the shaft without any sort of breaking mechanism.

Wrex ran right past me, and I'm pretty sure he was smiling.

I turned again, skidding on my heels as I adopted a firing position with Kaidan and laid down covering fire for Wrex.

Not like he needed any. Wrex charged headfirst into the three remaining rachni, punching, kicking, shooting, and completely ignorant of the toxic acid splashing on his armour. The chemical reaction was causing smoke to rise off his body and for a second I marveled at the sight. When it was all over, Wrex just stood in the center of the carnage, soaking up the scene around him.

"I think you broke the elevator…" Kaidan said quietly as we approached.

"Ha!" Wrex boomed. "I just made it a little more compact!"

Fortunately, Tali was able to call the elevator and the rest of the team joined us in the hall. We broke up into fire teams and started clearing the relatively small facility.

"Got a barracks here." Garrus said through the comm.. "All clear though I'm only counting eight beds."

"Then that leaves two," I confirmed, "Chase, confirm no remaining contacts outside."

"No sir, scans are clear for miles."

"Roger. All stations this is niner. We've got two more contacts somewhere in this facility. Stay sharp. Advise when sectors clear."

"Shepard…er… niner… this is…uh…Wrex…Labs are clear. Got some kind of operating theatre here. You might want to take a look."

The room was stark and utilitarian. A bright lamp hung down from the ceiling in the center. Beneath it was a gurney fitted with leather restraints. The straps and the gurney were stained with dried blood, as was the floor around it.

"They didn't use an anesthetic," Liara muttered, feeling sick to her stomach.

Medical equipment on wheels had been pushed up against the far wall. Some of it I recognized: an EEG monitor; an endoscope; a cranial drill. Other, more sinister-looking machines I could only guess the purpose of.

I gave each piece a quick examination, trying to get a feel for what it might have been used for. At the same time I struggled not to picture Admiral Kahoku screaming as he was subjected to the bizarre medical tortures.

"If he's not here, where is he?" I said to myself.

Kaidan and I carried on past the barracks until we reached what was obviously the station's primary

research lab. There was a large bank of computer terminals in the center of the room, and the two remaining contacts sitting at the stations.

We breached the room as per SOP, throwing a flashbang and rushing the room. One stood and drew his pistol as the other dove for cover.

At this close range accuracy barely mattered; the autotargeting systems of both weapons ensured direct hits. My kinetic barriers deflected all the rounds from the pistol except for one that embedded itself harmlessly in the padded shoulder of my combat suit and another that ripped through the corner of my ammo pouch. My opponent wasn't so lucky. The concentrated scatter of the shotgun blasts overwhelmed his shields, and a handful of pellets penetrated the kinetic barriers. The impact tore great holes in the exposed flesh of his face and hands, and the man dropped lifeless to the floor.

The other man, a scientist without any sort of combat armour was slowly rising to his feet while Kaidan screamed at him to get down on the ground.

The man had a calm, serene expression that worried me, and I cocked my weapon again as a gesture of impatience.

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few." Were the only words he said before he closed his eyes and bit down hard on something in his mouth. Seconds later he was on the ground convulsing and foaming while Kaidan and I tried to administer first aid.

Fifteen seconds later he was dead, and contact number eight was down.

"He killed himself," Kaidan whispered in disbelief.

"I guess he figured he was a dead man anyway." I said to him. "Cerberus has contacts even in the Alliance."

"What was he protecting?"

The process of analyzing what Cerberus had been up to was threefold. First the encrypted data had to be carefully extracted from the databases. Then it had to be decrypted. Finally, it could be analyzed by Tali and Liara. It would have been simpler if the scientist hadn't started to purge the data minutes before we had arrived.

"This whole thing was a set up." I finally realized. "They knew we were coming, they sent out those four outside as cannon fodder to slow us down so they could purge the system. They had no intent of coming out of this alive."

"Then where's Kahoku? What were they hiding?" Ashely said, her voice rising with frustration.

We resumed our slow careful search of the premises. In another office, this one located just beside the data lab, I discovered a small door built into the floor. It was primitive in design; rather than sliding on rails it simply swung upward on a pair of metal hinges. It was closed and locked with a simple deadbolt latch.

Locking eyes with Kaidan, I took aim at the door with my shotgun and used the toe of my boot to slide the deadbolt aside. I waited for several seconds, and when nothing happened I leaned forward cautiously and threw open the door, ready to fire if a target presented itself.

The cellar beneath was completely dark. A rickety wooden staircase descended into the blackness. I flicked on the flashlight built into the shotgun's barrel, using its powerful beam to pierce the gloom as I made my way slowly down the stairs.

When we reached the bottom I cast about in a quick circle, sending the illumination into every corner. The room was square, maybe twenty feet on each side. The walls were finished with brick and mortar, the floor was bare cement. It was completely empty except for a motionless figure lying on its back near one of the walls.

Training the beam of my flashlight, and the muzzle of the shotgun, on the body, Kaidan and I approached. We were within a few feet before my mind finally recognized what I was seeing; I had found Admiral Kahoku.

Running the flashlight slowly from head to toe, I saw that the he was bound hand and foot, and had been stripped completely naked. If I hadn't recognized his distinct balding hair, I wouldn't have known it was him. His face was a deformed mess of lumps, bruises, cuts, and burn marks, clear evidence of the torture he had endured. Someone had knocked out all his teeth and caved in one cheekbone. The other cheek gaped wide, as if someone had slit it lengthwise from lip to what passed for his ear.

One eye was swollen completely shut. The other had both upper and lower eyelids missing, the ragged edges of the flesh left behind attesting to the fact that they had been savagely torn off with a pair of pliers. I recalled with distaste how much certain organizations enjoyed that particular method of torture: in addition to the excruciating pain of the brutal removal, the victim would go slowly and agonizingly blind as the exposed eyeball became dehydrated.

The rest of the body showed similar signs of abuse.

The fingers and toes were all broken, and several had been yanked from their sockets. Every inch of exposed skin showed signs of being beaten, cut, burned or dissolved by acid. However, there was something even more unusual about the body that caused me to crouch down for a closer look.

There appeared to be some kind of loamy, gray growth spreading out from his wounds to crawl slowly across the skin. It took me a moment to realize it was some kind of bacterial fungus; in addition to the sadistic torture, the Admiral must have been given a strange alien disease.

Kaidan was now vomiting in the corner, and I was holding back my own urge as well.

I gave a grunt of frustrated anger and stepped back from the body. To my surprise, Kahoku reacted with a short yelp of fear.

"Jesus Christ, the poor bastard's still alive!" Kaidan shouted.

He was actually trying to talk, saying the same phrase over and over in a shaky, raspy voice. The words were distorted from his missing teeth and misshapen face, and it took me several repetitions before I could decipher what he was trying to say.

"I can hear them….I can hear them in my mind….I can hear them….I can hear them in my mind… "

He kept repeating the same phrase over and over, his voice rising and falling in a trembling, terrified warble. I crouched down close to him, though I was careful not to touch the infected flesh.

"It's okay" I said softly, "Nobody's going to hurt you now. It's okay."

He didn't seem to hear me, but continued babbling, his words coming more and more quickly as his broken mind spewed out the information in a desperate attempt to avoid continued torture.

"It's over now" I shushed, hoping to calm the frantic Admiral down. "It's over."

My words seemed to have the opposite effect, as he began to thrash against the bonds holding his wrists and ankles. He let out a cry of frustration, then began to sputter and cough. A fine mist of black, foul-smelling ichor spewed from his lips and the gash in his cheek, causing me to jump back to avoid the spray.

The fit ended with Kahoku letting out a series of hitching, gurgling sighs, and then he finally went still and silent. Steeling myself against the fecund stench that was now emanating from the body, I got close enough to verify that the Admiral had stopped breathing.

I left the body in the blackness of the cellar and climbed the stairs back to the ground floor, passing Liara, who was uttering some kind of asari prayer.

"Tell me we're ready to leave." I said to Tali, my voice a little darker than intended.

"A few more minutes and I'll have the download complete." She said quietly, knowing something was wrong just by looking into my eyes."

I radioed up to Chase to have a HAZMAT body bag brought down.

Fifteen minutes later we were back in the Mako and making our way toward the extraction point.

* * *

Back on the _Normandy_, medical exams complete and Kahoku's body transferred back into Alliance custody for a proper autopsy, I found myself pacing in the CIC, waiting for Tali to finish her analysis.

"This will go a lot faster if you're not constantly hovering over me!" She snapped suddenly, and I took the hint.

I tried to busy myself with writing the After Action Review for Binthu in my quarters, which now felt all too confining. My mind kept drifting back to the state we had found Kahoku in. What kind of information Cerberus was trying to extract…if any. What kind of experiments were they conducting.

I was interrupted by the intercom. Four hours had passed and Tali had finished her analysis and I called a meeting with the primaries in the briefing room.

Tali started flipping through screens until she found the files she was looking for. Reaching out, she tapped the haptic interface, causing the data to balloon up so that all the hovering screens were suddenly filled with an assortment of charts, graphs, and raw numerical data.

"See this chart here," Tali said, touching one of the screens so that it expanded and moved to the forefront of the display. "This is the data we were able to extract from examining the husks you encountered on Eden Prime. But look at this one…it's altered, like Cerberus was trying to mimic the data."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It confirms the theory that Cerberus was attempting to extract something from the husks, and implant them in living human subjects. Some kind of experimental cybernetics." Liara said.

She continued to glance over the data, then stopped when she recognized something else, the cold chill of an old memory creeping down her spine.

"I've seen this before, too," Liara said softly. "Advanced AI research, biomedical implants. The same kind of thing we found on Noveria in the Rachni."

"Are you sure?" I wanted to know.

"I'm sure."

"This must have something to do with the Reapers," Liara said.

"But why would _Cerberus_ be researching the Reapers?" Ashley inquired. "And what does this have to do with Admiral Kahoku? I thought they were an anti-alien group. Why would they be kidnapping and experimenting on humans?"

I wiped my hand across my face, not sure what to do with the information. "It's possible the subjects were voluntary."

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few." Kaidan recalled. "Though I doubt the Admiral had volunteered."

Liara stood and pulled up another data chart, "While we found no indication of cybernetic implants in the Admiral, Doctor Chakwas noticed some abnormalities. His brain showed signs of rapid degeneration, however, upon further examination we discovered the individual cells had been altered, and were in a state of partial arousal rather than true awareness. They may have been experimenting with some form of _mind control_."

"Reaper tech?"

"Of that I cannot be sure. Though it seems likely, given the evidence." She said.

"How did they get their hands on Reaper tech?" Garrus wondered. "How did they even hear about the Reaper threat in the first place?"

There were several possible explanations as to how Cerberus had caught wind of the Reaper threat. While it was a known fact that Cerberus had trained operatives within nearly every level of Alliance Command, a breach of security on the _Normandy_ itself was highly unlikely. They may have simply read Liara's research papers on the subject. She had already published two since she had been aboard.

"Well we've got to stop them." Ashley stated. "If they're experimenting on humans we've got to stop it."

"They're not the main effort." I reminded her. "Saren is our objective. We'll keep an eye out for Cerberus, but they aren't our main concern right now, Ash."

"How can they not be!? You've seen what they've done!"

"As brutal as their methods are, "Liara interjected before I could respond to Ashley's frustrated outburst, "They are taking the Reaper threat seriously. They are trying to understand them."

Ash shot me a look, begging me to chastise Liara for her words, but she knew a small part of me agreed with the doctor's assessment. At least they were doing _something_…as horrible as it was.

"Ash, this attack was a serious blow to Cerberus. Binthu gave us a lot of great intel, and I swear to you the Alliance will put it to good use. They won't be allowed to flourish."

All she could manage was a disgusted snort.

The meeting dismissed, I decided to kill a few hours cleaning my weapons and conducting maintenance on the Mako with Tucks.

Liara followed me into the elevator.

"How do you do it?" She asked once the doors had closed. "How do you see what you see and still function as though nothing happened?"

"Even in times of trauma, we try to maintain a sense of normality until we no longer can. It's called surviving. You don't really heal. You don't really get over it, and honestly I don't know if I could be around someone who could. You just press on. Put it away."

The Well of Fortitude is a finite resource. You draw from it, and you let others draw from it until it runs dry. Eventually, you become a statistic. A broken mind. This I know.

Prior to my posting on the _Normandy_, I had been sent on a special assignment with a young Lieutenant Alenko, to recover the leader of a biotic commune…my former CO Major Kyle. The commune distributed transmissions across the extranet, one of which was intercepted by C-Sec, inviting other biotics to join them on Presrop. Kyle began taking a more militant approach, preaching that the Alliance was in fact responsible for all the biotics' problems. Eventually the Alliance became concerned about his activities and sent me in. An unusually personal assignment.

The commune was in fact a cult, with the biotics referring to him as "Father Kyle". According to Admiral Hackett, Kyle — never a biotic himself — was likely seen by the cultists as a protector, and through 'protecting' them, Kyle was able to assuage his guilt over the events at Torfan. I was able to talk him down, but the image of a once strong and confident man reduced to a broken shell had never left my mind.

Everyone's well runs dry.

I turned to Liara and closed the small distance between us. "We never become whole again ... we are survivors. I know you're not a soldier, but you've been through hell and back and I know you want to keep going. You are a warrior."

I had rendered her speechless, and realizing the lift wasn't moving, I reached around her to hit the button to bring us to the cargo hold. For a split second my front brushed against her chest and I felt her breath on my skin.

"What about Cerberus?" She asked once she had caught her breath.

"What about them? If they continue to break the law within council space I will continue to pursue them. But if they're willing to figure out what the hell the Reapers want…it's better than nothing. Maybe we can turn them away from the dark side."

"I hope you're right."

"Next time you start to get afraid…just remember what you are capable of, and why you are fighting….and who you're fighting with."

The lift finally kicked into gear and began to descend. I was startled when I felt her arms around my shoulders as she pulled me into an embrace. Once the initial shock of the contact wore off, I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her close. The scent of her perfume was making my head spin, and I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the closeness of her. The tightness of her grip. The genuine sincerity of a hug meant to give comfort and nothing more. I wasn't sure if it was meant for her or me. It didn't matter. I hadn't been hugged in years.

* * *

**A/N:**_ For those of you who don't know, the torture scene was borrowed from the Ascension novel. Really good read if you're interested!_


End file.
